Until We Bleed
by Altocat
Summary: Welcome to the madness. Joker/Harley   Reviews greatly appreciated. Now complete.
1. The New Doctor

"We've looked at your credentials," the tall, balding man in the white coat was saying. "I think you just might be what we're looking for, Harleen."

She blinked. Once. Twice. She pinched herself. She wasn't dreaming.

"Really? Are you serious, Mr. Arkham?"

He smiled, charmed by her enthusiasm. He'd liked her the moment she had walked in the doorway. "Of course. I think you're capable enough. You've impressed us a great deal, Dr. Quinzel. And for someone so young!"

She blushed. "Yes…well…I've only been interning for a few months…"

"Still, we'd like to have you on board. Right now we need all the help we can get."

_Oh God,_ she thought, _I made it…all that work and I'm finally in!_

"Should we put you with Crane? His old doctor called it quits a few days ago…"

"Actually, there's someone else I've wanted to work with for a very long time."

"Oh? And who's that?"

She sucked in air. "The Joker."

Arkham's friendly smile fell and his brow furrowed. The clown was damned impossible to redeem. Already, three doctors had given up on him. This girl…so young! So vulnerable! The clown would have a field day breaking her.

"No," he said flatly.

Her mouth trembled into a pout and he could see that she was trying not to look disappointed.

"I see…"

"It's for your own good, Dr. Quinzel. He's a hopeless case. Crane's a mess, but even he might still have a chance at being rehabilitated. You have to understand."

"Yes…I understand." But she didn't. She was disappointed as hell.

"Dr. Arkham? I don't mean to pry…but…is there anything I can do to treat him? Can I at least try at least one session with him? Just to test things out?"

"Dr. Quinzel," he said firmly. "I don't want you getting into something out of your hands. He's been here for only five months now and already he's broken down some of my finest doctors."

"But I could try…I need to try…he's still a human being, isn't he? Doesn't he deserve a chance like everyone else?"

"We've _tried_ to give him a chance. He doesn't want to let anyone in. He doesn't want to talk. He just sits there and plays mind games."

"But I can reach him, I know I can. Please, sir. I've come a long way for this chance…I…"

She was giving him puppy-dog eyes. Honest-to-goodness puppy-dog eyes. Her young face was the portrait of determination. How could he say no?

"Alright. Fine. One session. If you get him to talk…then you can have him."

Her heart leapt in utter joy. "Yes! Thank you, Mr. Arkham sir! I won't let you down, I promise!"

He chuckled at her zeal. He liked her quite a lot. Not only was she pretty to the eye, but she genuinely seemed to care about her work; a trait that was lacking in some of the other doctors here. But did she have any idea what she was in for?

Harleen Quinzel stood up and brushed a strand of brown hair from her face. Her blue eyes sparkled with radiance and her smile seemed to light up the room. It was enough for him to push the uneasy feelings aside.

"Thanks again," she said, shaking his hand earnestly. "You'll see. Everything will be fine."

As she started for the door, he stopped her.

"Dr. Quinzel?"

She turned; her round peach-pink face eager to please.

"Yes?"

"Please…above all else…be careful."

She smiled again. "Of course I will, sir. That's a promise."

She turned and exited, trying her very hardest not to skip down the hall in elation.

_You did it, Harl! You made it at last! At last!_

Dr. Arkham sat in his chair and stared after her.

_I really hope nothing happens to her,_ he thought. _Oh please, dear God, don't let anything bad happen to her._

And so it began…


	2. First Encounter

Years of studying and researching and dreaming and here she was.

Arkham Asylum. The big one. The whopper of all madhouses.

And she, little Dr. Quinzel had been hired! And not just hired to work with anyone, she was working with the _Joker._

She had read articles about him in the paper, had seen all kinds of reports about him on the news. The ferry incident that had happened five months ago had had her glued to her tiny little tv screen. For weeks, she had studied everything there was to know about him, had poured countless hours of her life trying to understand what lurked within those dark, murderous eyes of his.

And now she was here about to have a session with him. And if all went well, she'd get to become his doctor.

"Joker's doctor…" She relished the words aloud. She'd be famous. The first doctor ever to reach the Joker and just fresh out of the university. Respect, fame, glory, admiration…she'd have it all. She'd have all the things she'd been hungering for.

_Hold your horses, Harley. You've got to actually meet with the guy first._

Yes. Meet with him. She would be meeting him today.

She managed to pretty herself up some in front of a bathroom mirror before she had her session. She wrapped her long brown hair up into a tight bun and smoothed out her coat. She hoped she looked professional enough.

Stepping out, she decided to wait in the hall.

"Hello."

A man was smiling at her. He had coarse brown hair and very bushy eyebrows. His chin was quite pointed and he had a rather stubbly face; tiny hairs curling and standing up this way and that way. He kind of made her feel uncomfortable, but she smiled anyway.

"Hi."

"You Joker's new doctor?"

She shrugged. "I certainly hope so. If all goes well here, that is."

"Well…don't worry. He's never had a female doctor before and I hear that he likes pretty girls." He chuckled and a tiny chill crept down her spine.

"Uh…yeah."

"Anyway, names Riles. Leonard Riles. But call me Len."

"Are you a doctor?"

"Nope. Guard." He showed her his badge.

"Oh. Okay." Talking to him made her feel uncomfortable. She didn't like the look in his eye. There was just something…_ugly_ about it despite his friendly grin.

"You're, ah, Doctor Quinzel, right? You're awfully young to be a doctor."

"Well, I just recently got out of college. But I really like what I do." She wished that they would bring Joker in already. She didn't feel like chatting with Len.

"We're going to bring him in soon. You'd better go wait in the session room."

_Thank God,_ she thought. "Well then…um…see you later."

"Good luck, Doc. Don't worry, you'll do fine." He winked and she stood up and walked towards the room.

_Dr. Arkham will be watching me when we have the session…oh, I hope everything goes fine!_

And she waited.

XxX

The scars.

The very first thing she noticed was the scars. She'd heard all kinds of stories about them, but seeing them in the flesh was truly something else.

There he sat before her: greasy greenish-brown hair, dark eyes, and a mouth that seemed to be turned up into a constant grin. A demon's grin. Without his war paint on, he had a rather attractive face, despite the scars.

The very sight of him excited her. From the moment he plopped down into the chair in front of her, she knew that she was staring into the eyes of destiny. If all went well, he'd be her ticket to fame.

"We'll be outside," the guards said. Press the panic button if things get out of hand. We've got cameras too just in case."

"Thanks. I'll handle things from here." Then they left and they were alone.

"Hello. My name is Dr. Quinzel. I'd like to talk to you, if you don't mind."

Silence. His eyes were studying her, inspecting every slightest detail of her face.

"I've heard that you've driven off your other doctors, but I'd still like to try to help you."

More silence.

_I sure hope he'll say something_…

"So, what would you like to discuss? Anything you'd like to say?"

Nothing. Zilch. More goddamned silence. It was starting to annoy her.

_He's testing me,_ she realized. _He's done this with all his other doctors and now he's trying it out with me…_

Well she wouldn't have it. She had worked too hard to get here and she was not going to end up like all his other doctors.

"Heard you like jokes. I know one if you'd care to hear."

"…"

"Okay, so why don't anteaters get sick?"

"…"

"Because they're full of anty-bodies."

He blinked.

"Get it? 'Cause they eat ants and…" She felt like an idiot.

"…That's a really lame one."

She jumped at the sound of his voice. "What?"

"That's a really lame joke. Christ, that's worse than some of the stinkers I've told in the past!"

"Oh, well sorry. I've never really been good at jokes."

_He's talking, ohmygod, he's TALKING!_

"You're different," he said, cocking his head and licking the corners of his mouth. "Never had a she-doctor before. Nice to meet you, my dear."

"Yes, well, I'm glad."

"How old are you, Doc? You're too young and pretty to be one of the many dead-faced sheep that work here."

_I'm getting awfully tired of people saying that._

"That is not for me to tell you, Mr…"

"Don't call me Mr. Joker. Sounds waaay too formal for me. I'm a casual kind of guy, sweetness."

"Alright, then. What would you like me to call you then?"

"How 'bout J?"

"How about I just call you Mr. J. That way we both are happy, okay?"

"Mr. J…" He said it under his breath a few times. "…I like it. Has a nice ring to it. Yes, doc, I think you and I are going to go places with that name." He grinned and winked at her and she blushed.

"So you're my new doc…who would have known?"

"Excuse me? What do you mean?"

"You don't seem to act like everyone else. It's not every day that a guy sees such a pretty young face amidst a sea of dull, boring ones. "

"Well, you've only known me for a few minutes."

"But I can see it, doc. Something about you…something in those baby-blue eyes of yours."

She blushed again. "This conversation is getting rather off-topic. Why don't we discuss something else? How about your murders? Why are you here?"

He looked annoyed. "Really, doc? Don't do that. I'm no animal that you can just poke and prod at until you squeeze the info out of me."

"I never said tha-"

"But you meant it, didn't you? That's what all the other doctors did. Poked and prodded at poor Uncle J. Don't do that, doc. I mean it."

"Alright, alright. I apologize. This really isn't supposed to be a formal sort of session anyway."

"Yeah? How is that?"

She shrugged. "I will only be assigned as your doctor if I impress Dr. Arkham."

"Ah, poor old Jerry. Losing hair a lot these days." He giggled. "Poor fellow has been losing a lot of sleep lately. But it's his own damn fault for thinking that he can bring order into an untamed world. He's as blind to the truth as dear old Commissioner G."

"…You shouldn't say such things about him. He assigned me so I could potentially help you."

"Do you _want_ to help me?"

"Of course, I do! That's why I'm trying out to get placed as your new doctor in the first place. You aren't just an animal to be locked up forever. You are a person. I want to see to it that you're cured and fit to re-enter society. That's my main goal above all else."

Mr. J's eyes gleamed and she began to feel uncomfortable. Despite their dark hue, his eyes had a very expressive quality about him. The way they shined at her from across the room, they almost seemed to captivate her in their depths.

"Who _are_ you, doc?" He leaned forward, hunching his shoulders and smirking. His expression was a combination of amusement and genuine intrigue.

She blinked, escaping from the entrancing spell of his gaze. The question had thrown her off guard.

"I-I don't understand."

"Here you are, having a little mini-session with me, praying that you'll get to please ole Arkham. To anyone else, you'd look like just some ordinary young brat trying to get some information for a line of self-help books. But it's more than that, I can tell. You're here for something else."

"I…I don't…"

He grinned and flipped a dirty curl out of his face. "Sure, you don't even really _know_ it yet, but I don't think that fame and fortune were the only reasons that brought you here. It's something else. I can read it on you. Lurking there."

His words were making her heart pound and she wasn't even sure why. What did he mean?

"We…we need to stop talking about me."

He laughed. "But I think I _want_ to talk about you."

"Why's that?"

"I think I like you, doc. You've got something about you that's so…unique. I think you and I are going to be real...pals."

She opened her mouth to reply something back, but the guards came in.

"Times up. We've got to take him back now."

"Alright. Okay. It was nice meeting you…Mr. J."

"Hope to see you soon, my dear," he said, licking his scars again. "Very, _very_ soon."

He was cackling when they brought him out.

Harleen blinked. Had that all really gone down? Had she really just met the individual whose face haunted every Gothamite's nightmares? The session had gone by so quickly. She hoped that Dr. Arkham had approved of it.

She'd held her breath when she met again with Dr. Arkham that day, praying that he hadn't noticed the somewhat unsettling way Joker talked to her. To her relief, all had gone well.

"I thought you did very well, Dr. Quinzel."

"But…he…he was so _ominous_…almost threatening. Didn't you notice?"

Arkham had laughed. "I'm just glad that he said anything! You're the first doctor to actually get a whole conversation out of him. Don't take him seriously, doctor. As long as you keep a strong hold on yourself around him, you'll be okay. I think you did as best as you possibly could. You should be very proud of yourself."

Her heart was doing giddy somersaults in her chest. "I'm really sorry you had to hear what he said about you…"

"Don't be. I wouldn't expect anything less out of him."

"…So…then?"

Arkham smiled and her life suddenly got brighter. "You're in, Harleen. We'll let you continue the sessions. Just watch yourself around him and don't get intimidated. If all goes well, maybe the clown really _will_ be able to re-enter society one day. Maybe."

"I really hope so," Harleen said softly.

"I'll see you again on Wednesday, Dr. Quinzel. You will have two sessions a week with him."

"Thank you so much, sir."

She was beaming as she strode down the halls. She could do it. She could help him. All it took was time and patience. And when she cured him, her name would go down in history.

_Here I am, Mother. Your daughter is finally on top of things._

Len grinned and waved to her as she passed by. She waved back.

And within his cell, the scarred man sat on his cot and pondered to himself in the shadows.

"Dr. Quinzel."

He began to giggle.

"Won't we have some fun?"


	3. Animals and Masks

It was Thursday and their second full-hour session.

"You look like you've been in a fight with another inmate. Have you been to the medical wing yet?"

He looked up and grinned at her. "This is nothing, doc. You should have seen the sorry fellow who dared to do this to me. Bit his knuckle so badly that he had to get stitches."

"I heard about that. But you shouldn't go fighting with the others like that. You'll just set yourself up to get hurt."

He chuckled. "You sound like my mother. Always nagging."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah. She'd always scold and nag at me. Always trying to turn me into a little gentleman. That's why I'm oh-so charming now."

"You're lying. Mr. Arkham told me that you've been changing your childhood stories ever since you got here."

"Ah, you got me, doc. But I'm sure she'd be the nagging type. The kind that constantly tries to paw at you. Aren't all mothers like that?"

Harleen's eyelids closed halfway. _Leave me alone, Harleen. Go off and play like a good girl._

"You okay, doc? Why're you staring off into space like that? We've got limited session time, don't we?"

She shook her head. "Yes. Of course. Let's talk about something else."

He licked his lips devilishly. "What kind of 'something else', doc?"

Her face turned red. "Not THAT kind of stuff. Don't be vulgar, Mr. J."

He waggled his finger at her. "No poking and prodding, remember?"

She sighed. "Yes, I remember. Let's just talk. How are you feeling today?"

"Basic doctor-patient 101 question? I'm disappointed in you, doc."

"I'd just like to hear some of your thoughts and feelings about things. How is the asylum treating you? What can we do to make you more comfortable? That kind of stuff."

"Okay. You want an opinion out of me? How come it's been two sessions already and I haven't learned your first name? Awfully rude of you to keep that precious little tidbit of information from me."

"Well, it isn't very appropriate of me to be telling you. It's unprofessional."

He rolled his eyes. "Professional, unprofessional, WHO cares? Why be like all the other do-gooders and boyscouts out there? They're all wearing masks, the lot of them. They all have this nice little code they follow. They want to be free but they can't help themselves. They just go on following the rules until the day they drop dead."

"And you? Where do you stand in all of this?"

"Me? I'm just the guy who watches and laughs at them. I've got no mask to wear, doc. In this world there is only one master: chaos. Follow chaos, and there will be no code of lies to follow. Follow chaos and you're free. Your mask is ripped off and the doors are no longer locked. They'll always be wide-open."

"I don't think so," she said. "We need order to survive. We'd regress to animals without rules and values."

"Sometimes, it is better to be an animal than and human, doc."

"But what about concepts that truly matter to people-friendship, justice, fairness, love. What about them?"

"They are all jokes. Friendship is hypocritical. Give me two friends and make them choose who gets to live and who gets to die. I guarantee they'll be at each other's throats just for the sake of living. Justice is just a lie. Nothing is ever truly just any which way you put it. In this city, a rapist is sent free from prison only to go do the same thing again. As for fairness…well just look at poor ole white knight Harvey Dent. Do you think things went fairly for him?" Joker seemed to chuckle particularly eerily at that.

"What about those people on the ferry? They had a choice. I watched all of it on the news. Neither of them blew each other's boats up."

He glared at her. "That was _nothing_. Nothing at all. A once-in-a-blue-moon kind of thing. It'll never happen again."

"…What about love? I noticed you didn't address that."

"Love…" he said the word aloud as if it were something foreign to him. She couldn't help but feel a twinge of sympathy for him as she watched his brow furrow uncomfortably.

"Love is…a joke too."

"How can you saw that? It's the strongest human emotion there is!"

"Seriously? What Disney movie told you that, doc? No, love is just as bad as all the other little concepts in this world. Love doesn't conquer all. It doesn't bring people back from the dead or make things all warm and fuzzy. In fact, there's even something…chaotic about it."

"Then you're saying that it isn't a joke then? I mean, you basically said that chaos isn't a joke."

He cocked his head and thought. "Maybe you're right. It's more in-between. It's a joke because it isn't as fairytale-esque as people make it out to be, but it's also chaotic because it can sometimes get out of control. So maybe it's not as bad as the others after all."

He suddenly leered at her. "And my my, aren't we awfully passionate about it? You seem to value it highly, doc." He licked his lips again. "Does my doctor have a special someone in her life?"

_Hell no. I get lonely on weekends and sit in bed all day watching daytime television while stuffing my face with ice-cream. Men are such jerks, nowadays._

"That's not for you to know," she simply replied.

He shrugged. "Just curious."

She felt depressed all of a sudden. Joker's words had made her feel forlorn. With her work and her apartment bills to focus on, she didn't really have time for guys anymore.

"You look down. No need for it. Just do what I do. A smile makes all the bad things go away. Come on, doc. Let's see a smile on that pretty face of yours."

"I don't think so. Let's stop focusing on me and get back to talking."

He huffed and slumped down in his chair. "I don't think I'm going to say anything else. You still haven't answered my question."

"What do you mean, Mr. J?"

His eyes glimmered. "What's your first name, doc? Tell me."

She inhaled. She might as well just tell him. What harm would it cause? Just a name. If she shared it with him, maybe he'd open up to her even more than ever. And him opening up more meant that she'd be closer to fame.

"Okay, okay. It's Harleen. Harleen Quinzel."

"Harleen…" He began to roar with laughter.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, doc, it's brilliant! It's hysterical! It-"

"Sounds like Harlequin. I know. I've heard it a million times before in the past."

"Don't look so put out. Instead of backing away from it, you should be embracing it…yes…Harleen Quinzel…my little doctor Harley…my…_Harley Quinn_."

She twitched. "I don't think that you calling me that is appropriate. Please address me as Dr. Quinzel."

"There you go again, being like everyone else. Why do you wear a mask like everyone else? It doesn't become you, Harley."

"_Dr. Quinzel_. And I don't wear a mask. I am who I am. There is nothing I have to hide."

"Right. Sure."

"I am not hiding who I am. This is me, Mr. J. This is who I am."

"No it's not. You're falling back on that old lie like everyone else. Everyone is hiding who they really are. It just takes a little…uh, persuasion for them to realize it."

"And you? "

His eyes darkened and once again, she became lost in their gaze. "I'm not one of them, doc. I'm not a lie. I'm free. I'm alive. I'm not bound by their useless code of morals."

He giggled and tipped is head. "And I do think that you're meant to be bound by them either. I told you before, I can see something with you…something I like. You have lots of…potential."

"I think our time is just about up. The guards should be here soon."

Right on cue, they entered the room and began to lead Joker away.

"Think about it, doc," he said to her over his shoulder. "Think about it. Masks are not who we're meant to be."

"Right. Whatever you say."

For a moment, just a tiny fraction of a second, something clicked in her brain. But it faded away as her thoughts drifted back to her notes.


	4. Friends

The asylum coffee tasted like crap.

But it was better than nothing. Harleen enjoyed the warmth more than the taste anyway.

She'd spent most of the day writing up on everything she and Mr. J had talked about. Through it all, she felt that she was one step closer to reaching her book. But now it was time to relax a bit in the lounge.

_Masks…masks…I wear no mask…he's insane. Society has disappointed him and his ideas have become disjointed. That's all._

What was she hiding? She wasn't some wild woman masquerading as a doctor. She wasn't an animal. She was normal like everyone else. Mr. J didn't know her.

She massaged her forehead and twirled a strand of hair thoughtfully. She'd help him the best she could. She'd make him see that it all was not one big joke. She _would._

"Hello, Harleen. Nice to see you."

It was Dr. Arkham.

"Hello, sir. Nice to see you too." She liked Mr. Arkham. Sure he was balding and way older than her, but she was very grateful that he had given her this job. There was something sad about him, something lonely and unseen. She sensed it. But the fact that he was still trying his best to run this run-down asylum only made her respect him even more.

"How are you getting on with our famous clown? Is he still talking?"

"Yes, he's talking. I think we're starting out okay. I think I can help him."

"Let's hope so. But should you feel overwhelmed by him, feel free to work on someone else. As I've said before, Crane could always use some more work."

"I think I'm going to stick where I am, sir."

"Of course. Just be careful."

She took another sip of her coffee. It tasted like dirt.

Arkham laughed. "Horrible, isn't it? Even when this place first opened, it tasted terrible."

"Heh."

"Oh, how are the guards? They doing their job properly?"

"I think so. But, um, you know Len?"

"Mr. Riles. Yes. He's been with us a few months now."

"How come he's always just wandering around? His eyes are always shifting about. It's kind of unsettling."

"Mr. Riles is a bit odd I admit. He still does his job but I think that he's secretly rather interested in the inmates. He likes to observe them. I suppose it's alright as long as he remembers to do his job."

"I guess."

Silence in the room for a few minutes.

"So what do you do outside of the asylum, Harleen?"

"Well…I read. I like to watch movies. I'm also really good at gymnastics."

"You don't say?"

She smiled proudly. "I was always really good at it. Cartwheels, flips, you name it. I still try to squeeze in some time to work out at the gym when I can."

"I see."

"What about you, sir?"

"Oh, nothing of any importance. Tell me, have you always lived in Gotham?"

"I grew up in Brooklyn. Moved to Gotham when I got into college. I missed some of the suburban life, but my years at Gotham University were truly…beneficial for me."

"That's good to know."

"Sir, might I ask why you're so interested in knowing about me?"

"I don't know. I'd just like to get to know my doctors more. When so many of them dropping like flies these days, I should get to know them while I can."

_Poor guy. _She didn't know why, but she felt really bad for him. It strengthened her resolve to get Mr. J cured. Perhaps then, poor Mr. Arkham would get a nice long rest from all the stress he was going through.

"I don't understand why they'd leave," she said. "There's so many people here they could be helping. Gotham's bad enough as it is. People should try to help others who really need it. It's what's right."

He smiled warmly at her and she felt herself light up inside. She loved it when she made others smile. Even when she was a kid, she'd love seeing people smile at what she said or did. It had filled up a space within her that she wasn't fully aware of…a space that somehow had existed inside of her that hadn't existed in everyone else.

"You truly have the right idea, Harleen. I was lucky to have hired you. You'll make a fine addition here."

"Thank you, sir."

"Harleen, you don't have to keep calling me that. It's Jeremiah."

"Alright…Jeremiah."

She thought about it a few minutes and then snorted, her coffee spilling slightly.

"What is it?"

"Are you eventually going to ask me to call you 'Mr. J' too?"

And they laughed.


	5. Bad Moon Rising

"Nice shoes, Dr. Quinzel. They new?" Len leaned against the wall, his mouth upturned into that usual lopsided grin of his.

How the grin made her feel uneasy.

"Bought them the other day. I needed some new ones."

"That's good. Joker'll be here soon. They just need to bring him in."

She looked up at him and her voice got unusually icy. "Not to be rude, but isn't that kind of _your_ job? I mean, you're a guard and everything."

His grin didn't fade. "Nah. I don't really want to be handling the Joker. Not my kind of thing."

"But they _pay you for it_."

He laughed. "Doc, I'm actually about to get a whole bunch of money soon and it isn't from this place. Made a new business deal y'see."

"How nice for you." She had decided that she didn't care that much for Len. She didn't like the suspicious look in his eyes and she defiantly didn't like the way he constantly seemed to be watching her, almost studying her every move. It was her fifth session now with the Joker and she was tired of Len constantly hanging around her right before it began.

Len looked up. "Hey, looks like he's here. Gotta go." She was relieved to see him leave.

As usual, the guards brought Mr. J in and left.

"What's wrong, doc? You look a tad annoyed."

"It's nothing. Let's start."

"Was it that Len getting to you? He's a strange fellow if I've ever seen one."

"It is none of your concern. Please let's get on with the session."

He leaned back. "Ah, as usual, the 'amazing mystery gal' bit. It's getting to be a real hoot, doc. It really is."

"As I've said before, Mr. J, this is not my session time. This is yours."

"Blah blah blah. I _know_."

"How have you been sleeping lately? They tell me they've been increasing your medication recently."

"I don't mind the little extra pills. Gives me quite a rush sometimes. Ever been drugged, doc?"

"No."

He tsked. "What a shame. You'd like it, doc. A little bit of fun for that dull and dreary little professional life of yours." He giggled.

"Have you been getting along better with the other inmates?" She was trying to change the subject. "You don't seem to have any more bruises lately."

"They don't bother me as much anymore. Actually, I've taken a liking to one or two of them. You've got poor Teddy who ate up his own mother. Now HE'S a real fun guy to have a personal conversation with. And of course there's good old Matt. Biggest firebug I've ever seen. He'd light the world on fire if he could."

"I've also heard that you've been hanging around Mr. Crane."

"Oh yes. Johnny's a real eccentric guy. Well, not around me he is. The guy's actually AFRAID of me! I can't really imagine why, hee ha ha ha…" His scars moved when he laughed.

"So you're basically saying that you're social life has improved here?"

"You could say that, doc."

"So then things are now better for you here?"

"Eh, can't really complain about this place overall. Why bother? After all, it's only temporary."

"You mean you think you're getting out of here soon?"

"You never know. Every dog has his day, doc."

She shook her head. "I don't think so. We still have much to work on."

He shrugged and licked his lips some more. "We'll see."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Some people just aren't meant to be locked up, doc. Some people get tired of seeing the same white walls and chains day after day. In fact…it might make them do something really…crazy." His eyes flickered and his grin grew larger.

"…Are you…threatening me?"

His face turned surprisingly innocent and he made his best lonely puppy look. "What do you mean, doc? Why would I ever do a thing like that? Aren't we friends?"

Harleen pondered about that. _Were_ they friends? Could doctors and patients be considered friends? It was certainly debatable.

"I…suppose we are…_kind of _friends. But let me make this clear, Mr. J, our relationship is strictly professional."

"Of _course _it is, sweetness."

They were quiet for a while as Harleen scribbled down some notes, trying not to meet his gaze again. She was beginning to develop a nasty habit in getting lost in his eyes. She'd have to work on that.

"Why so silent now, doc? Did I give you a scare?"

He had. She wouldn't admit it, but he had. The thought of him escaping was very frightening. And the way his voice had sounded so threatening made it all the worse.

"No," she lied.

"I think I did. No need to be scared, doc. You've got nothing to worry about. I'm a gentle thing around pretty doctors like you." He giggled again.

"Yeah," she replied sarcastically. "You're so gentle that you've killed hundreds of people, some of them innocent civilians."

"No need to get antsy. They all deserved it. They didn't get the joke."

"And you think that killing them is what's right? Innocent people that did no harm to you?"

His face grew remarkably serious. "Death frees them. When they're alive, they don't get the fact that they're all pawns of one big joke."

Then he leaned over to her and stared into her eyes. This was the closest he'd ever gotten to her. Her hands began to tremble. "Do YOU get the joke, doc? I wonder if you do…"

She pressed the panic button. She couldn't help it. So terrified was she from the way he looked at her, the way his eyes seemed to stare into her soul.

The guards rushed in and began to take him away. He looked a tad bit disappointed, but he still stared straight at her even when they were dragging him out.

Mr. Arkham was waiting for her down the hall. He looked quite worried.

"What happened? Did he try to hurt you?"

"No. I got a bit unsettled, I'm sorry. Jeremiah, I think we're going to have to keep a closer eye on him. He was making hints earlier that he was going to escape soon."

Arkham shook his head. "That can't happen. We've got cameras all over the place. Guards keep their eyes on him 24/7. Nothing really to worry about."

"I know, but still…"

He put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry, Harleen. I'll see to it that the clown won't escape. Really, there's nothing to get nervous about. You were right to push the panic button when you got uneasy, but remember that he can't hurt you with a bunch of guards outside."

In spite of the comfort, she still felt perturbed. "I _know_, but…"

"Tell you what," He pulled out a syringe and a small bottle on clear liquid. "In case of a REAL EMERGENCY, use this. It's a sedative and will knock him out easily. Only use it in the extreme event that he comes at you and there are no guards."

"Alright," she said as she took it from him and slipped it into the pocket of her doctor's coat. "Thanks a lot, Jeremiah."

"I wouldn't want you to get yourself hurt, Harleen." He was really sweet to her, he really was.

_This man, for all of his flaws and short comings, should have be my fath-_

Arkham looked at his watch. "Oh. I've got to go. Go home and get some rest, Harleen. You look like you need it."

"Rest. Yeah. I need some. Rest."

As she walked down the hallway, she noticed that some of the other doctors were staring at her, some almost glaring.

_What did I do? Why are they looking at me like that?_

Before she left their presence, she heard one doctor whisper to another.

"Arkham's favorite…figures he'd send her home early…"

They were insulting her! They were resentful of her somehow.

_I didn't do anything to them! I don't even know them! I've only been here a little while and already they're going to pick on me like a bunch of grade-schoolers._

She'd show them. They'd see who was laughing when she was famous. And she couldn't help that she and Mr. Arkham were friends. It just happened. It wasn't her fault that they didn't care enough to actually _try _to help their patients. They were just jealous.

But it still felt horrible. It made her think about junior high. Back then, they'd do the same thing by insulting her behind her back.

_Maybe Mr. J is right about people…maybe they all deserve what they get and WHAT AM I THINKING?_

That was a horrible thing to think. She was letting the session get to her.

_I must do some more research on Mr. J. I've got to become more prepared for the next time he acts like that to me. I'm going to go home and study as much as I can about him, even if it takes me hours. I WILL._

So she left early that day inspired to prove her fellow doctors wrong, studying bit after bit of information about her patient long into the night.

And in the black, starless sky, the crescent moon watched her; upturned into an unchanging white grin.

XxX

_**Hey, everyone.**_

_**I know it's kind of late for an author comment, but what the hell, LOL. **__ Being a devoted fan of the Joker/Harley pairing, I wanted to do something nolanverse-ish with the classic Mad Love story :)_

_**Anyway, things are going to start heating up soon. Trust me, around chapter seven, the REAL story is going to kick in. **_

_**Consider chapters 1-6 as an almost pre-feast appetizer. (Laughs evilly with lightning in the background) **_

_**As usual, I always love reviews and I thank anyone who happens to be reading this little fic of mine. **_

_**Cheers.**_

_**-CAT**_


	6. Calm Before the Storm

Harleen was exhausted.

Instead of resting, she'd spent endless hours the next few days studying everything she could about the Joker. She scoured the internet long after midnight for every article about him she could find. She knew that this sort of thing was considered unhealthy, but she didn't want to stop.

_I'm NOT obsessed. I'm just trying to research all that I can. Really._

She wanted to prove to everyone that she was not going to freak out like she had the other day. She'd even begun to start writing the beginning of her book. With luck, she hoped that she could get into it really soon after she became more trusted with the Joker.

When she wasn't killing herself researching and studying, she was writing down as many notes as she could in her office. Every now and then she'd try to have a word with Mr. Arkham asking what she could do to improve her efficiency. She supposed it could be considered sucking up, but she didn't care if it meant improving enough to more properly treat her patient. And Mr. Arkham always seemed to enjoy her company.

Something odd began to happen though. Everything began to seem different somehow. Not _different_ different, just a bit strange.

Joker acted a bit unusual around her. Sometimes, he'd stop talking altogether and just stare at her, as if testing to see how uneasy she'd get. Other times, he'd just tell jokes, trying to get her to laugh.

"Come on, doc," he'd say. "Let me see you smile just for once!"

Of course, she'd have to keep a grip on herself. As a doctor, she had to never let her emotions become too visible to her patient, even if it meant sacrificing something as simple as a smile or a laugh.

And, as usual, he'd tsk and look disappointed.

"What a pity. Such a pretty face and yet such an unhappy one." He'd shake his head and tsk some more.

But that was the way it had to be with them. Nothing more.

XxX

"You look tired, doc."

She lifted her head up and blinked at him from across the room. "I'm fine, Mr. J." It only the beginning of their seventh session and already she was exhausted. She shouldn't have stayed up researching so much last night.

"Naughty, naughty, Harley. You're lying."

"I'm not lying," she lied while massaging her forehead. She didn't even feel like correcting him for not calling her Dr. Quinzel. "I'm telling the truth."

"Been burning midnight oil, haven't we? Look at those shadows under your eyes. Christ, doc, you look like you got about an hour's sleep last night!"

"This is not about me."

"It could be if we tried." He licked his lips and his scars seemed to ripple.

"Well, we're _not_ going to try. You are the patient and I am the doctor."

He growled.

"I know you're upset, Mr. J, but that's the way things are. I'm not the one here who needs help. You are."

His voice grew increasingly irritated. "Y'know, just because they _tell_ you to act a way around me doesn't mean you _should._ Why are you letting them tell you how to act? You're letting them use you as a pawn to their 'code'."

"I _am not_ being told what to do, Mr. J."

"Sure you are. And that's what's getting me so fired up."

"Why do you care?"

"I've told you. You're not like them, Harley. You don't have that same dull look in your eyes. You have so much potential…so much possibility…and yet here you are catering to the whims and demands to a world that doesn't know what fools they are."

She rolled her eyes. "And what do you suppose I do about it?"

"I'm not their pawn, Harl. I'm something that can't be caged no matter how much you lock me up. I refused to follow the same straight little line everyone else followed. Look at me now."

"You're a murderer who needs serious help."

"I'm _free_."

He leaned closer to her and, very slowly, reached across the desk. The cuffs around his wrists rattled as he moved his hands nearer ever so slightly. She couldn't move. She was too interested in seeing what he would do next.

Very, very slowly, he took her hands into his. For a violent killer, his hands were quite warm.

"I want to set you free, Harley," he said softly. His fingers stroked her knuckles gently, almost tenderly. "I don't want to you be in a cage."

She wanted to pull away. Why couldn't she move? Where was her self-control? The way he was holding her hands felt just too nice.

He was giving her that spellbinding look again and she was lost in his eyes. She couldn't look away.

_Need to get him away…but the feeling…he's a killer, he'll kill you too…can't…this is getting out of hand…but I can't stop…try to…can't…try…can't…try…TRY…_

She blinked and pulled away from him at last, feeling for the syringe in her pocket just in case.

"Don't do that again," she said, trying to sound intimidating.

He grinned. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because it's not appropriate."

"Then why didn't you pull away for a while. You looked like you were enjoying it."

"I _wasn't_!"

He leaned back again. "Y'know, doc, I just saw the real you. She was there in your eyes."

"There wasn't anything there. You were imagining it."

He began to laugh and the sound of it made her shiver. "But she WAS there, doc. I saw her."

Anger was beginning to boil within her and she really wanted to hit him.

_Come on, Harleen. Get a grip!_

She opened her trembling fist and forced it to rest beside her. She couldn't hurt him. She'd have failed him as a concerned doctor. Hell, she didn't even _like_ to hurt things! She'd just gotten angry, she told herself. That was all.

The Joker was watching her, still chuckling slightly.

"You don't have to keep your emotions hidden from me, doc. Why not just let them out? Why not just let it all out? You'll be free to do whatever you want. No one can stop you."

"Because I'm not like you, Mr. J. I'm _not like you_."

"But you _are_, my dear. You just don't know it yet."

Then he yawned and stretched, ruining the mood. "I think I'm a bit tired myself, doc. I'm done for today."

She nodded. "Alright. The guards should be here soon."

Like usual, the guards came in and began to take him away. Before he left, he tossed his head over his shoulder and winked at her.

"See you soon, doc."

She shivered. She didn't like the way he'd said that. There was something waaay to ominous about it.

_No, you're being silly. He's just trying to get to you. Jeremiah said that he can't hurt you. You've got to believe him._

She'd keep going. One step at a time. Sure, she was tired, but she'd have to see it through. She couldn't let Mr. J get to her. What he said about her wasn't true. It wasn't! She would prove him wrong.

_Yes, I've got to keep going. You're not a kid anymore, Harleen. You can't just jump at small shadows like a frightened child. Mr. J needs you to help him. He's counting on you to help him. He just doesn't realize it._

Later, she stopped by to have a chat with Dr. Arkham, pushing the thoughts of her patient out of her mind. They engaged in small talk and laughed at silly things related to their work.

Outside, it was beginning to rain.


	7. Kidnapped!

Thursday afternoon.

It was almost time for her eighth session with the Joker. Harleen yawned and stretched as she put down her pen. She was beginning to think that writing the book was going to be harder than she expected. Sure, she'd written an awful lot so far, but she still felt it lacked something.

Oh well. She'd just have to keep trying.

She had lunch that day with Mr. Arkham and discussed where she was at with her patient. In a way, she was glad that the other doctors weren't friendly towards her. It gave her the chance to spend more time with her boss.

"I wish we'd really start getting somewhere," she said over a cold grilled cheese sandwich. "All he ever does is try to talk about me. I wonder if he'll ever truly open up about himself…about his past and stuff like that."

"I know you're trying," Arkham said gently. "Remember that you can always treat someone else if you're not up to the Joker."

"I know. But I'm not giving up just yet. There's still a lot we've still got left to work on. I'm still going to try my hardest."

Arkham beamed. "I expected nothing less from you. You've done a good job so far, Harleen."

After that, she gathered her things and began to walk towards the therapy room. Mr. Arkham smiled and waved a he watched her go.

She wouldn't see him again for a long time.

XxX

"Hey, wait up, doc!" Len was running towards her.

Oh, hello," she said, not really wanting to talk with him. "What's up?"

"Can I walk with you, doc?"

_Say no. He's strange. Don't be nice, damnit. Say no._

"Alright."

They walked in awkward silence and Harleen wondered why he had even asked in the first place.

"So…uh…how are things with you and the Joker?"

She shrugged. "I'm doing all that I can. I just hope that I can really help him soon."

"Think you will?"

"I certainly hope so."

Len smiled and gave her a pat on the back that almost knocked her down. "Oh, don't worry, doc. I'm sure everything will be fine soon. You're awfully smart and you'll figure things out. It just takes some time. You'll see."

She didn't know what to find more strange-the massive pat on the back or the incredibly amiable tone in his voice.

"Why so reassuring all of the sudden?"

"Dunno. Just wanted to say it."

_Perhaps he's not so bad after all…_

Maybe she had misjudged him. She shouldn't have tried to avoid him so much in the past. Maybe he just wanted someone to hang out with. She felt bad about it now.

He looked at the clock on the wall suddenly and turned.

"Shoot! Got to go, Dr. Quinzel. See ya around."

Before she could blink, he'd gone.

"What was that about?" she said aloud. Oh well. She vowed she'd be friendlier to him from now on.

Forty minutes left…

XxX

"How are you today?"

Mr. J sat in his chair and twitched his fingers. "Ah, so-so, doc."

"Have you been sleeping?"

"Have YOU been sleeping?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," she replied. "But I'd like to hear about you."

"I've been sleeping a bit," he said. "And I've been having lots of dreams lately…"

"Is that so? Care to share them with me?"

"Hey, doc, are you scared of the dark?"

"What does that have to do with your dreams?"

He ignored her. "You strike me as someone who doesn't like being in the dark. Am I right, doc?"

She sighed. "Yes, yes. I've never liked the dark. Are you satisfied? Can we please get back on topic?"

He licked his lips again and she had to force herself not to do it along with him.

"Alright, doc. You wanna hear what I dreamed? Then I want to play a little game."

"A game?" What did he mean? What was he getting at?

"It's a fun little game, doc. You tell me what you dreamed about last night and I'll tell you what I dreamed about last night. Sound fair?"

"I suppose…"

He leaned back in his chair and grinned. "You first."

"Why do I have to go first?"

"'Cause you'll do it if you want anything from me."

"Alright, alright," she closed her eyes and tried to collect her thoughts. "I'm pretty sure I dreamt about gymnastics."

"Gymnastics, doc? You?"

She blushed. "Well, I've always been really good at it. Before I was a doctor, I wanted to be a gymnast. I guess after doing it for so long, it gets stuck in my head."

"What can you do, doc?"

She shrugged. "Oh, flips and stuff like that. It's really just a hobby now."

"Whoever would have guessed, doc? Now isn't that interesting…"

"Alright. I told you and now you have to tell me. What did _you_ dream about, Mr. J?"

He smiled real toothily. "You really want to know, doc?"

"Of course I do."

"Because you're my doctor."

"That's right."

"Because you want to know what's going inside my head."

"Yes, yes. Now please…"

"Alright. Last night, I dreamed of a little girl."

"A little girl? Was she someone you knew in the past?"

"Not exactly, doc. She had these big wide eyes and little hands that were always trembling."

She nodded as she wrote down the notes. "Go on."

"Well, she'd try to run around and laugh, but all these other little boys and girls wouldn't let her. They'd just push her down and throw sand in her face."

"I see. Interesting."

"So I told her to come with me where the other little kids couldn't get to her. I told her that I'd take her away from it all."

"And how did she react?"

He cocked his head and thought. "I think she _wanted_ to come with me, doc. But after being pushed around for so long, I don't think she trusted me."

"What happened next?"

"Things got really dark all of the sudden and she began to scream. So I had to shush her in order to get her to come with me. I said 'let us leave, my girl' and then I picked her up and took her away from the darkness."

"And what happened then?"

"…"

"Mr. J? What happened after that?"

"…"

The lights suddenly went off and she shrieked in surprise. Was it a power outage? She didn't recall it being so bad outside.

Suddenly, she heard the sound of chains being rustled and being broken. He had gotten loose! She was aware of him coming closer to her in the darkness, could hear his footsteps on the ground shuffling towards her. He was coming at her so very slowly and she couldn't see where he was!

_Oh God! OhGodohGodohGod!_

The syringe. The sedative Mr. Arkham gave her. She had to use it now and fast. Desperately, she flung a hand into her pocket and found that there was nothing in it.

_I had it earlier, so where-_

He was right beside her; she could feel his breath against the side of her face. She whimpered, terrified.

She could feel his mouth inches away from her ear. Before she could move, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her closer, making it unable to break free.

Slowly, very slowly, he licked her cheek. She began to tremble.

"Let us leave, my girl."

Then something sharp and pointy jabbed into her shoulder and she cried out in pain.

"What was-"

"Just a little something before the trip, doc. We've got to get going."

Her legs immediately began to feel like jelly and her head began to spin. Had he…drugged her?

Before she could cry out, he swept her off her feet and began to carry her towards the door.

"Let me go! Mr. J let me goooo!" Where was he taking her?

The door opened and the light was almost blinding.

"We have to move, Boss," Len's voice said.

"Let's get going."

_Len was working for him…he must have stolen the syringe from my pocket when we were walking and must have given it to Mr. J. Why didn't I notice?_

They were running now and she was having a hard time keeping her eyes open. Vainly, she tried to stay awake, tried to call out to anyone who would hear her. The guards hadn't been around.

"Someone…"

She felt a sharp tap on the side of her head. "Hush, Harl. No one is going to hear you."

Things were beginning to blur in and out of focus. She could feel Mr. J's arms carrying her and she could feel his pulse quickening. They were taking her somewhere…

"Boss, we've got about twenty minutes before they notice she's gone. We've got to move faster."

_Stay awake. Have to…stay awake…_

She heard the screech of a car and felt herself being shifted through an opening.

"Go, go," Mr. J was saying beside her.

_Have to...stay…awake…have…to…_

Weakly, she tried to pull herself up all the way towards the window. It was no use as the car began to speed up and turn roughly.

Before her world went black, her last sight was the asylum fading off into the distance. It seemed to get grayer and grayer as everything around it began to disappear.

Finally, it was gone completely and she thought no more.


	8. Torment

**DAY 1**

The room she was in was dark. Ungodly dark. She could tell that even with a blindfold on.

She tried to sit up, but she couldn't. Something was wrapped tightly around her wrists and ankles that prevented her from moving.

"S-someone," she croaked, trying to call out in the darkness. There was no reply.

"Someone," she tried again, this time louder. Still nothing.

The position she was in was beginning to hurt and she began to groan. She needed to sit up soon.

Suddenly, the lights grew a bit brighter and she heard the door open.

"Hello?"

"Well, well, looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up. You were out for a while, doc." It was Mr. J.

"Where am I? Where have you taken me?"

He chuckled and she felt him stoop down beside her. "Oh, nowhere, really. But don't worry, no one can hear you."

"Where's Len?" She was trying to control the terror in her voice.

"He's out with the boys. Getting supplies and stuff like that."

"He was working for you all this time…"

"Correct! It's always good to have an ally from the inside. Though I have to say that it certainly took the guy a while to seize the opportunity to snatch you up."

"Wha-what are you going to d-do to me?"

His hand tipped her face upwards and she groaned. "Not really sure. What _should_ I do with you, Harl? Kill you maybe?"

She began to shake. "Please, please no…please…"

"After all," he went on saying. "You weren't very courteous to me back at the asylum. Always brushing my queries off and acting so damned indifferent…"

"Oh please, oh please…"

"Ooh, I _like_ watching you beg, Harley. I've wanted to see that for a long time. Come on, beg some more."

"Oh please don't kill me, please don't kill me, oh please, oh please…"

He shrieked with laughter and she began to cry; hot tears spilling down her cheeks. They leaked through the blindfold.

"No need to cry, doc," he cooed down at her. "It'll be quick, just one bullet to the head. You won't feel a thing."

She cried louder.

"No one can hear you. The folks at Arkham didn't even know you were gone until we were miles away. I doubt even _he_ can find us now."

What did he mean be '_he_'? Did he mean the Batman?

She began to choke on her sobs and cough. She didn't want to die. She was only twenty-six years old. She was too young to go!

Mr. J grunted. "Stop sniffling, Harley. It's getting really boring."

But she couldn't. She couldn't stop. She was just too terrified.

Suddenly a fist slammed into her side and she yelped.

"I said _enough_. No one is going to find you. You're stuck here."

"I-I-"

He leaned down closer to her. "What is it?"

"I h-hate you…"

He laughed again. "No you don't. We're buddies, you and I."

"Please let me go…please…" She tried to sound as pathetic and desperate as possible, trying to influence whatever shriveled up little heart he possessed.

"I don't think so, doc. We're still in Gotham, but I doubt you'd be able to walk all the way back. We're really far in the city from where you were before."

He began to play with a strand of her hair.

Her body was beginning to ache. "Please…"

"Yes?"

"Please, can you at least push me into a sitting position? It hurts…"

"Afraid not, doc. I like seeing you lying like that too much. Puts me in a mind for certain things."

"You-you wouldn't."

He reached down and patted her cheek. "You're right. Raping a woman is beneath me. But I do just love watching you lay all helpless like that."

"Let me goooo. I want to go. Please let me go. I want to go home. I want to go. Wanna go. Wanna go. Wanna go…" Her voice sounded childish, but she didn't care.

He took her right ear and twisted it painfully, making her moan. "You are not going anywhere. You're going to stay here and we're going to have some fun. Won't that be nice?"

She sniffled.

"Good. I'm glad you agreed."

Then he got up and left the room briefly and she was thankful that he had at least kept the lights on. She tried to undo her binds, but they were way too tight. She could only whimper in pain and humiliation as he re-entered the room. In one deft motion, he yanked the blindfold off her face.

The room she was in was empty, save for a few chairs here and there. They were in some sort of apartment. The door looked like it led to more rooms, but she couldn't twist her head far enough to see.

Mr. J hovered over her grinning. He had his clown makeup on and the sight of him in the flesh was truly piss-worthy. Despite the paint covering them, his scars looked more prominent than ever. He was holding a camera. The tiny red recording light was on.

"Say hi to the folks back home. Tell everyone watching who you are, sweetie."

"Dr. Harleen Q-Quinzel." Her stomach was beginning to turn.

"My good old doc. Isn't she something?"

He reached forward and lifted her head towards the camera. "Take a good look. Here's my little angel. Look at those eyes. Have you ever seen such pretty blue eyes? Now that's what I call a looker."

She began to cry again. Was he going to humiliate her before he killed her on camera for all of Gotham to see? Her stomach was twisting and turning, making her sick.

"I…I…"

"Let's hear you say hello to our viewers. Say hi to old Jerry Arkham 'cause I know he'll be watching this."

"Please…"

He nudged her roughly with his foot. "Go on, doc, don't be camera-shy. Say hello."

"H-h-hello," she gurgled out.

"So talkative! You certainly know how to pick them, Jerry." More laughter.

She shut her eyes and tried to fade away, tried to be somewhere else. He wouldn't have it as he knelt down and lurched her head up. "No, doc. No sleeping now. The good people watching GCN tonight are going to want to see this."

Very gently, he began to cradle her head as he continued filming, muttering unintelligible remarks at her. She began whimpering again and he hushed her soothingly.

"Poor little Harley-girl. She's not really a very social person. Just look at her, poor thing looks like she's about to throw up. Are you about to throw up, Harley?"

"Y-yes," she managed to choke out.

"Poor little thing. So sensitive. Doctors, go figure. Well then, I'm afraid that's all we have, ladies and gentlemen. Try to find us. I dare you. But don't look _too_ hard; I've got Harley here and I can do whatever I want with her."

He turned the camera back towards her. "Well, time to say bye-bye now, doc."

She could only mewl in agony.

"I think someone needs the blindfold back on." Before she could protest, he'd wrapped it tightly over her eyes again.

She couldn't take it anymore. She gasped and emptied her stomach right then and there; her sides heaving.

"I'll have to edit that out," he said cheerfully to the camera.

"…It…It hurts…"

He knelt down again and wiped her face. "Open up, doc."

She felt herself biting down on a rag. Apparently, he had gagged her.

"That should keep you quieter." Mercifully, he finally sat her up into a sitting position and leaned her against the wall. "So long for now, Gotham," he said to the camera. "You'll be hearing from me _real soon_."

He began to walk away and she realized that he wasn't going to come back for a while.

"Mmmmf!"

"Take a rest, doc. I'm going to turn off the light now. Do you think you can be a big girl and stand the darkness?"

She moaned through the gag and shook her head. "Mmmf! Mmmf!"

"Too bad. See you later."

The lights went out and the door closed and she was alone again. At least he had propped her up against the wall. But was he still going to kill her?

_Oh please, God, don't let him kill me. I don't want to die…_

Her thoughts drifted towards Mr. Arkham. Mr. J was right when he said that Mr. Arkham would be watching that night when the tape was broadcasted. He'd be crushed with worry. The thought made her feel even worse.

For the third time, she began to cry again; howling and moaning in fright, pain, and anguish in the blackness.

_What's going to happen to me? What's going to happen? Oh, God, I'm so afraid!_


	9. Joker's Pet

**DAY 2**

She dreamt of her old childhood neighborhood, of running giddily up and down the street with a scrapped knee and a happy smile. In her dreams, there was no darkness or pain. There was only the wind blowing through her hair as she giggled and let her pigtails bounce in the breeze.

Then hunger and the urge to urinate took hold and brutally tugged her back into the world of consciousness. She was still blindfolded and the gag was still in her mouth. She was still bound by the ankles and wrists in the blackness of the room.

The door opened slightly and she froze. Was he finally coming back?

Hesitant footsteps. Silence. Then, finally, coming towards her.

"Mmf," she tried to call out through the gag.

The person, whoever it was, was kneeling down towards her. From the way he moved and breathed, she could tell that it wasn't Mr. J. She began to tremble.

"Now, now," the person said to her. "No need to be scared, girlie. I'm not here to hurt you." It was a gentle voice, a reassuring voice.

"Mmf."

"Let me get that gag off of you." A hand reached out and slowly took it out of her mouth and she was finally glad to be able to move her jaw.

"Who are you?"

"I came to see if you needed to relieve yourself. I have a bucket here." He didn't answer her question, not that she was surprised.

"Can you take the blindfold off, please?" She wanted to see the face of this unknown person.

"I'm afraid I can't. Boss's orders. Anyway, do you need to pee, or not?"

"Yes. I do."

"Alright then." He was helping her to her feet and she almost fell back over from her muscles being so sore and weak.

"I'm going to temporarily take off your binds, no funny business, alright? Also, you have to keep the blindfold on." She nodded.

Once the binds were removed, she rubbed her wrists and scratched at where the flesh had become tender from being bound. Then she felt a bucket being pushed into her arms.

"You know what to do."

She hesitated. "Couldn't you go away while I…go?"

"Sorry. Boss told me not to leave you alone."

"Then could you at least turn around?"

"Alright." Although she couldn't see him, she could tell from the sound of his movements that he was no longer facing her.

At ease, she was finally able to relieve herself, slightly embarrassed at having to do it with him around. When she was done, he began to re-bind her, making sure that she was properly secured.

"Thank you," she whispered to him. "Thanks for bringing the bucket."

"Just sit here now nice and quiet."

"Do I have to have the gag?" Her mouth was so sore from having it in for so long.

"You don't have to have it only if you can keep quiet. That means no more screaming. If you start up, the boss will bite my head off."

"Please," she said suddenly, trying to reach out and cling to her mysterious companion. "Please, can you tell me where I am? What does he plan to do with me?"

A grunt. "I don't know. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you anything. You'll just have to find out."

His voice was soothing, but it didn't make her feel any better.

"Just wait here some more. And remember, no screaming."

Then the door shut and she was alone again.

XxX

More dreams.

This time, she was climbing the big oak tree in the park near her house. She reached the highest branch and rested there under the cool shade of the tree's many leaves. Beside her was Sammy, her old stuffed rabbit.

Suddenly, the ground below began to shake and quake and before she could grab onto something, she was falling towards the ground, howling in terror all the way. The air was full of laughter as she anticipated the hard blow of the ground against her soft child's flesh.

Then she jerked awake with a gasp.

She was still all alone. She was still here in this unfamiliar hellhole. She felt like crying some more but realized that it wouldn't do any good. She just pressed her head against the wall and sighed.

It occurred to her suddenly that she was hungry. No, not hungry, _starving_. How long had it been since she'd last eaten? She tried to think back, but the whole day prior to her kidnapping was nothing but a big blurry haze. All she knew was that she was desperately hungry. Her muscles were agonizingly sore and her head was pounding.

_Maybe I'll just die here._ Why not? She didn't care anymore. At this point, she'd welcome death. That and maybe a steak with some mashed potatoes. Her stomach roared loudly at the thought.

She felt so dizzy. The room was beginning to spin again. She wanted to throw up some more, but there was nothing to throw up.

She happily welcomed the haziness as she passed out again.

XxX

Something was prodding her cheek and she felt the blindfold being removed from her eyes.

"Come on, doc. Up and at 'em. Come on…"

Mr. J had come back. Maybe he was finally going to kill her? She could hope.

He began swatting her roughly, trying to rouse her from her sluggish state. Weakly, she opened her eyes and winced at the sight of his painted face looming over her. His expression was a mixture of mild amusement and annoyance.

"Good." He began to prop her up and smooth back her hair. "It's about time."

"What…do you…want?" Her voice was hoarse, raspy from weakness and hunger.

"You don't sound so good, doc," he said, his voice unusually tender. "Sounds like you're at your limit."

Fresh tears welled in her eyes. _Is he here just to humiliate me some more? Just let him kill me already._

Soothingly, he began to stroke her hair, twirling it in his fingers. He leaned closer towards her and gently cupped her chin.

"Are you going to behave now?"

She swallowed and nodded.

"Good girl. Guess what I've got here with me. Some nice soup for you. One of my henchmen informed me that you needed to eat."

"…"

"Well? Do you want it or not?"

She wanted it badly, but she didn't trust him. For all she knew, it could be drugged or poisoned. Her stomach rumbled and she decided that she didn't care.

"Please…"

"Please, what, Harley?"

"Please, Mr. J…"

He chuckled and stroked her hair again. "If you want it, I'm going to have to spoon-feed it to you. You're not going to fuss about it are you?"

She shook her head. Her stomach was craving the food so badly that she'd shake her head forever if he'd let her.

"Open up." Slowly, she opened her mouth and gulped down the broth, coughing slightly from the hot liquid slipping down her throat.

"Here comes another." She devoured it greedily, not wanting to miss a drop. The whole time he chuckled and wiped her face with a cloth, cooing at her as if she were an infant. It was humiliating but it didn't matter to her. She just wanted to eat.

"Slow down, Harl! Didn't your mother ever tell you that it isn't good to eat so fast?"

Her mother…

She twitched and gulped down the soup faster.

"I think that's enough," he said, taking the bowl away. She began to whine, to mewl for more and he simply shoved her back.

"Sorry, doc. You'll just have to wait for some more later."

She whimpered and shivered and he brought a hand to her forehead and checked her temperature.

"You're a bit warm, doc. That's no good. Maybe I'll bring you some medicine later."

"Aren't you going to kill me?"

He grinned and pressed his forehead down to hers. "Sorry, Harley-girl. I don't really want to."

"But why?"

"I've never been a guy with a reason, doc. I guess you're just too…fun to kill. I think I'm just going to keep you." He giggled.

_He means to keep me alive here as his little pet?_

She began to shake, this time not out of fear or weakness, but out of rage. "I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! EITHER LET ME GO OR KILL ME!" Her normally gentle blue eyes flashed savagely and she snarled at him, snapping at his fingers like a vicious animal.

He tipped his head back and shrieked with laughter; building up her fury.

"That's right, doc. Let it all out. I've been waiting for this for a while."

She howled in anger and tried to squirm free of her bonds, trying to break loose and tear him apart. Her mind was clouded with a hazy red mist and a string of savage growls escaped her lips as she writhed and struggled on the floor.

"Those binds of yours are very tight, doc. I'd say it's almost impossible to break free of them."

He was right. _Again_. She couldn't free herself. It was hopeless. The haze began to clear from her head and she began to lie still, exhausted and beaten.

He leaned over her. "Are you finally done, Harley? Are you?"

She whimpered again. She'd never thought she could have acted so wildly like that. She had scared herself.

"Harley? Are you done?"

"Yes," she whispered. She just wanted it all to end. "Yes, I'm done."

"That's my girl."

Very, very, slowly, he bent over and kissed her on the top of her head.

She blinked, reacting to the feeling of his lips. She hadn't expected him to show her such a tender display of affection.

He got to his feet and turned. "I still think you need some more time to yourself, Harley. I'll be back sometime later. Until then, don't you go anywhere."

"No! Please don't leave me here all alone in the dark again! I can't take it anymore! I don't like the darkness! I don't want to be left alone! I hate it!"

"…"

"Mr. J! Mr. J! Please!"

"You're a big girl, Harl," was all he said as the door shut for the third time.

As the blackness consumed her once more, she screamed and screamed until she thought her throat would bleed. Then, hopeless and lost, she curled herself up as tightly into a ball as she could, rocking herself back and forth.

And all was silent for a long time.


	10. A Dangerous Guardian

**DAY 3**

Harleen smiled.

For the first time in days, she smiled.

Mr. J had made a mistake, oh yes he had. He'd forgotten the silver soup spoon he had used to feed her with earlier. She had spent what seemed like hours whimpering in the darkness until she had discovered that it was there. Shifting herself despite the binds, she managed to grasp hold of it and move it around her hands.

A solid silver spoon meant that she could use the tip as a means of cutting or loosening her binds. If she could only angle the spoon a certain way without making too much noise…

She grunted in frustration. It was bad enough not being able to see with the blindfold on, but the act of shifting the spoon around was proving to be harder than she had realized.

"Come on," she whispered, trying to get the tip of the spoon up against the tight rope around her wrists. "Come on, come on, come on…"

It was taking longer than she had expected but she kept at it. Sure, it wasn't a knife, but at least it was _something_.

"Ouch!" She'd accidentally stabbed her wrist with the tip of the spoon. As she felt a small trickle of blood run down her hand, she bit her lip in order to stop herself from crying out in pain. She couldn't have Mr. J coming back and catching her. She'd be in deep shit if he did.

She tried again, attempting to carefully angle the tip of the spoon against the rope around her wrists. Ever-so-carefully, she began to gently saw at the rope with the spoon.

It took twenty minutes, but she could feel the binds beginning to loosen.

_Yes! Yes!_

One more minute and then they were off. She suppressed the urge to howl with joy as she rubbed her wrists and removed the hated blindfold. She then proceeded to cut and pull at the binds around her ankles and found that it was much easier to do with both of her hands. When the last bind had been removed, she stared at her free ankles for a long, slow moment.

_I'm finally free…_

After three days of humiliation, fear, tears, hunger, and lack of grooming, she had finally broken free of her restraints.

_Who's laughing now, Mr. J? _

But she wasn't out of the woods yet; she still had to find a way out.

Weakly, she got to her feet, groaning from her aching muscles and physical feebleness. Being stuck in a sitting position for three days with little food did that to you. A lock of hair lung limply in her face and she decided that once she was out, the first thing she'd do was have a nice long bath. A nice bath and all the food she could eat. Yeah. That would be good.

_Focus, Harleen._ _You need to get out of here first._

She squinted in the gloominess of the unlit room. Was there a window? She felt around the walls for anything that might resemble an opening, but concluded that were none to be found.

Her eyes were drawn to the door across the room and she hesitated. She had no idea what was behind that door or if it was even unlocked. What if she opened it and Mr. J was there? It was an intimidating thought.

_C'mon, Harleen! Now's not the time to be a baby. You can do it. All you gotta do is try for it._

The reassuring voice in her head egged her on, making her take a few cautious steps forward.

_Come on…just keep going a little more…_

Her hand was centimeters away from the knob and she felt herself shake.

_Stop being such a baby, goddamn it! It feels like its unlocked so just open the damn thing already!_

She inhaled, gulped, and very slowly turned the knob and opened the door.

To her relief, no one was there. It looked like she was in an apartment, just as she had suspected. There appeared to be many other rooms, but she didn't want to go exploring.

_I've got to get out of here before he gets back…_

She tip-toed slowly towards the main doorway, trying her best not to make a noise in case there were henchmen around. And she knew there were; she could hear a quiet conversation going on from another room.

As silently as she could, she opened the main door and entered a stairway.

_There has to be a window somewhere around here with a fire escape…_

She didn't want to go out from the front, too obvious. She crept around the stairway and searched. She had to move as quickly as possible before they discovered she was gone.

Then her heart leapt. At the very end of the hall, a window with a fire escape could be seen.

_This is it. I'm out of here._

As fast as she could, she ran towards it and opened it in one firm tug. Her muscles were still sore as hell, but she didn't acknowledge them as she pulled herself from the window onto the fire escape. She went down a few flights before finally leaping down to the firm, solid ground. Her years of gymnastics had paid off.

She exhaled loudly and grinned, looking up and marveling at the feat she had performed.

_Who's laughing now? ME, that's who!_

It was nighttime and the air was a bit chilly, but she could've cared less. She began to run, her feet gobbling the sidewalk as she panted. She wasn't concerned that she was a long way from home. She'd run until she found the police or the Batman himself and to hell with what dared to stop her.

She tipped her head over her shoulder and looked back at the apartment. The sight of it disappearing into the distance excited her and she ran faster than before.

_Free at last! Free at last! Free at-fucking-last!_

XxX

How long had it been? Almost thirty-five minutes probably. She was sure that she had gotten a good distance away from where she started. Her pacing slowed and she leaned up against a light pole.

_Gosh, this is a really deserted part of town. I haven't seen one person yet!_

He probably had figured out that she was gone by now. Maybe it would be a good idea to travel through the alleyways just in case. The shadows could hide her from him if he came searching.

She began to walk briskly, keeping her eyes peeled for the first sign of help she spotted. A rat darted by and she shook a little, flinching at the sight of something moving unexpectedly in the gloom.

"Just a rat. That's all." Actually, compared to the crap she had to deal with earlier, a rat was nothing. A rat was about as scary as a newborn kitten.

_Keep going. Just keep going…_

Where WAS everyone? No wonder Mr. J had whisked her away here-the place was a regular ghost town.

_You gotta keep moving. Eventually, you'll have to come across someone. Keep going…_

"Well, lookie here," a voice said behind her, making her jump. "What do we have here, boys?"

A man stepped out of the gloom along with two other men. He had long, dirty locks and a cobra tattoo that stretched all the way down his arm. His first companion had piercings on both eye brows and short, spiky hair. There was nothing truly remarkable about the third man except that he seemed to possess a very large nose.

"Looks like a little girl that's lost her way," said the spiky-haired man boorishly. "You lost, sweetie?"

They snickered.

"I'm n-not l-lost," she said, trying not to sound panicked.

"She sure sounds lost," said the big-nosed man, licking his lips.

"Hey, baby, you want a ride? We can show you a good time." More laughter.

She couldn't believe this. She'd just escaped the clutches of the Joker just to be in danger from these bozos. Going down the alleyways had been a bad idea.

"Please," she said as calmly as she could. "I don't want anything. Please leave me alone."

"And why would I do that?" The Cobra-guy came closer. "I just wanna have some fun."

She tried to stand her ground. "No. I just want to be left alone. Please go away. Please."

Cobra came forward, followed by Spike and Big-nose. "We 'aint leaving you alone, sweetheart. Havin' a pretty gal like you just wandering into our midst is just too good to be true."

"Look at those hips," Big-nose drooled. "Are those somethin' or what?"

"And that ass," Spike raved. "I bet that's a great fucking-ass."

"Let's find out what they'll look like naked," Cobra said as they began to surround her on all sides, making her back into the wall.

_Oh God! This is not happening!_

Cobra was leaning close to her and she could smell the rancid scent of pot and heavy booze on him.

"Just relax, sweetheart," he said. "I'll be gentle, I promise."

_I just went through hell earlier and here I am about to get banged by these fucking creeps. _

Something hot and furious began to boil within her. Her knuckles began to shake and her heart began to quicken. Once more, that savage, blind fury from earlier had returned.

_They're not going to have me! I won't let them! I WON'T! _

In one swift motion, she smashed her fist into Cobra's face with all the strength she could muster, snarling and lunging to get away.

"You BITCH! You FUCKING BITCH! Nobody fucking hits me! Nobody!"

Spike and Big-Nose were coming at her and she charged at them, clawing and biting.

_Hurt them, make them bleed, hurt them,_ the voice in her head was not her own and the red haze had returned. _I'll fight them until I drop dead here on the pavement. They won't have me! They won't!_

"Bitch! Fucking bitch!" She had knee'd Spike in the stomach and was just about to do the same to Big-Nose when she felt a blow to the side of her neck and she dropped to the ground. Cobra was leaning over her with a deadly sneer on his face.

"Grab her, boys. After I'm done fucking her, I'm going to kill this fucking bitch."

She bit Big-Nose as he tried to grab hold of her and he punched her in the side, making her gasp for air. Still, she kept fighting back and was about to kick Spike when the glint of a knife made her freeze in terror. Cobra had a knife and was coming at her with it.

Spike and Big-Nose had finally managed to grab hold of her after delivering some kicks to her stomach and held her up against the wall as Cobra leaned close to her once more.

"Damn cunt," he swore. "I'm gonna make sure that you _beg_ me to kill you. That's how much you're gonna hurt. Hold her steady, boys."

Just as he began to lower his pants, a thundering noise filled the air. Gunfire.

Suddenly, Cobra dropped down to his knees and was still; blood slowly trickling from a hole in his head. Harleen screamed.

"And what do we have here?" a familiar voice asked. "I thought punks like you agreed never to set foot in my territory."

"Mr.….Mr. J…" She tried to squeak out his name. She never had thought she'd be so happy to see him.

Spike and Big-Nose were practically pissing in their pants as he stared at them. His clown paint looked positively eerie in the shadows and his eyes seemed to glow with a kind of demonic light.

"You're…you're…" Big-Nose was trying to speak but sounded like he was on the verge of crying like a baby.

"Been trying to hurt my doc? I don't suppose she was already bleeding like that to begin with?"

"Please…it won't happen again. Don't kill us. Let us live. Don't kill us."

Mr. J walked forward, his glowing eyes never leaving Spike and Big-Nose. Then he began to examine her injuries, tut-tutting at every bruise and cut.

"Looks like you boys roughed up my Harley-girl pretty bad. That's a shame. I was really looking forward to hurting her for trying to escape from me. But now it looks like you fellows have ruined my fun."

"Come on, man. Please don't kill us. We'll go far away. Please. Please."

Mr. J placed his hand firmly atop her head and dug his fingers into her hair. She groaned in pain as he dragged her forward and made her face Spike and Big-Nose.

"This is _mine_. She belongs to me and only to me."

"We understand. Please," Big-Nose was beginning to sob.

"It won't happen again, we swear," Spike pleaded, his knees shaking.

"If I ever see your faces here again…"

"We understand. We'll go. Just let us live…"

Mr. J wrapped an arm around her and began to lead her away. "Come, Harley. We're going back."

Spike and Big-Nose began to back away.

Then Mr. J turned, his scars stretching as he grinned. "You know what I like, boys? I like to count." He pulled a gun from out of his coat. "Let's see who can outrun a bullet. 5…4…3…2…1…"

They had already fled by the time he had started to count and it remained unknown at just what the bullet had hit that night

XxX

Mr. J dragged her down the streets, pulling at her arms roughly until she thought they would fall off. She didn't feel like struggling; she was simply too exhausted.

They were almost there and her legs were wobbling unsteadily. Before she could stop herself, she fell to her knees and simply sat there, too tired to move any longer.

Mr. J stood over her with a leer, his eyes glittering with excitement and anger.

"You tried to leave, doc," he growled softly, his eyes piercing her face.

"I'm sorry."

"You could've gotten yourself killed. If I hadn't been there, you'd have been worm-food by now."

"I know and I'm sorry. I won't ever try to do it again."

"Sorry isn't going to cut it, Harl." His voice was soft. "While you were off running around like an idiot, I was practically ready slaughter all my henchmen I was so worried."

She sniffled. "I didn't want to stay there any longer. I couldn't take being bound and having to sit there in the darkness."

His fist came colliding with her side and she recoiled, coughing and spitting blood.

"Insolent brat."

"I'm sor-sorry f-for making y-y-you worry, M-Mr. J." she choked. "

"Not just worry, Harl, I was going fucking ballistic." He hit her again.

She shrieked and coughed more blood, her head spinning yet again in pain.

"I'm s-s-s-sorry! I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry…"

And he hit her some more, making her world shift from clear to hazy as she struggled to breathe.

Finally, he just stood over her and panted. His war paint was smeared and his hair was a wild, tangled mess. He was watching her, waiting to see what she would do next.

Very slowly, she crawled towards him and clung to his leg.

"I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely, tears spilling down her cheeks. "God, I'm sorry." She really was. She had pulled a really stupid stunt that had almost cost her life and he had _saved_ her. He, the Joker, had saved her life. She realized then and there that while he was her captor, he did genuinely seem to want to protect her. And she was grateful that he had arrived in time to rescue her from those men.

Her vision was beginning to fail her and she felt him lean over and pick her up, cradling her in his arms.

"Let's go home."

Had he forgiven her? She hoped so.

As he held her and walked on, she felt her head grow heavy and she rested it on his shoulder. She slipped in and out of consciousness from time to time and could sense that they were beginning to near the apartment.

Sounds of footsteps shuffling up stairs. A door opening.

Then she was thrown into a corner.

Murmuring voices. Mr. J's voice. Len's voice too. Then the sounds of many footsteps walking away from where she was lying.

She was cold and began to shiver, her eyes tightly shut.

Mr. J grunted.

Then, suddenly, something was being placed on top of her. Something heavy and warm. She stopped shivering immediately.

"Little idiot," Mr. J's voice said. But the way he said it didn't sound as mean as it did tender.

Then footsteps fading away.

Her body totally drained and sore, Harleen curled up tighter within the heavy warm thing on top of her and drifted off into oblivion.


	11. Somewhere in the night

The Bat leaned over the edge of the roof and stared out into the smoky horizon, tilting his head to listen to the silent heartbeat of the night. His cape blew in the breeze, wrapping around him like a coiled snake.

Three days.

It had been three days of him searching and the Joker was nowhere to be seen. The clown must have taken extra special measures to keep his location concealed, though he had been spotted several times throughout the area. Word had broken out from two street thugs that had survived an attack from him that he was armed and very dangerous. But, of course, the Joker was dangerous even without weapons.

The Bat had spent hours lurking about in the streets, searching for answers…for anything that could lead him towards the clown's hidden lair. But he had found nothing. This fact alone was very troubling.

But there was something that troubled the Bat even more-Joker's hostage.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

He'd seen her picture in the newspaper when she had been hired to treat the Joker at Arkham Asylum. She seemed like a nice enough girl-young and pretty with large blue eyes that conveyed a sweet, gentle personality. He had examined her picture for hours and tried to figure out why _she_, of all people, had been fated for this misfortune.

He had read up on as much as he could about her, from her childhood, to her academic career, to her interaction with others. She was born in a tiny part of New York and had grown up with a single mother, the father not being mentioned. She won a gymnastic scholarship to college and proved to be a very diligent student, trying her best to succeed in becoming a psychologist. From what he had read on her file, she was very physically gifted in gymnastics and could perform Olympic-style feats that would make any athlete jealous. Why she had ever become a shrink, he'd never know. She seemed to have stopped doing gymnastics years ago, though, except for the occasional trip to the gym every now and then.

She also seemed to possess a rather childish quality about her. The way she had been kidnapped by the Joker after only a few weeks had given the Bat the impression that she hadn't been prepared for the worst. She was someone who hadn't grasped the fact that she would be having sessions with a dangerous, murderous psychopathic killer and that made her seem quite naïve.

But she wasn't someone he'd thought would be useful to the Joker. She didn't appear to possess any ill-will towards others nor a sadistic nature. She seemed like the sort of person that was a hard worker and always eager to please her superiors. Despite her somewhat novice-like disposition, she appeared to be very compassionate and kind-hearted towards others. Overall, he wouldn't have guessed that there was really a bad bone in her body.

_But, then again, that's what I thought about Harvey…_

There _was_ something odd about Dr. Quinzel though…something in those round, innocent eyes of hers that perplexed him….something mysterious and unseen. Had the Joker seen it as well? Had that been why he had kidnapped her?

The Bat raised his head and watched the dim lights of the city flicker around him.

Where was she? Was she still even alive?

He and Alfred had watched the video the Joker had sent out a few days ago. It had sent all of Gotham in a panic and fleets of Gordon's men were searching high and low for Dr. Quinzel. So far, no body had been discovered.

Back at the Asylum, Jeremiah Arkham was going through a sort of depression, blaming himself and whatnot. He had made a pact with Gordon to join the efforts of finding Dr. Quinzel and ensuring her safety. But the Bat knew that they'd never find the clown or Quinzel. _He_ was having a hard enough time trying to find them.

She had to be alive somewhere out there, trapped in Joker's claws and hidden within his unknown lair. The Bat knew that he had to keep on looking for her. The sooner he found her, the sooner he'd find Joker. And while all clues had led to nowhere, he'd have to get past it for the sake of saving Quinzel's life. He had failed Harvey. He had failed Rachel. He would not fail Harleen Quinzel.

He'd just keep trying.


	12. Settling In

**DAY 4 (Part 1)**

"…Groan…"

She opened her eyes, wincing in reaction to the harsh glow of light as well as the soreness of her muscles. She wasn't on the floor anymore, but on a bed.

_Where…?_

For a moment, just a tiny little moment, she had believed that she was still in her old apartment and that her kidnapping was only a fading nightmare. But as her eyes focused, all hope that had lingered was swept away.

She sat up, groaned again, and ran a hand through her tangled hair.

_That's right…last night…Mr. J…_

She blinked as she found that his coat was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Had he…let her keep warm with it last night? She couldn't fully remember.

But where was she now?

She wasn't in the same room he had kept her in before. This room was different…a great deal less austere. There was a bookshelf and a small window that viewed the streets with the main city in the distance. There was also a closet, presumably for clothes, and bathroom with a shower. And here she was, blinking with confusion on the bed and not sure just how to react.

Suddenly, the door slammed open and she jumped a little as Mr. J strolled into the room.

"Rise and shine, Doc."

His clown paint was off and she was a tad relieved to see that he appeared to be in a friendly mood. But then again, Mr. J was always unpredictable and she didn't want to let her guard down.

"Where's…this?" she asked, feeling incredibly stupid. She tried not to appear too scared when he closed the door behind him.

"This, Harl, is to be your new, ah, 'lodging-room'. I've been thinking, y'see, 'bout how naughty I've been for keeping you alone in the dark for so long and well, after last night's little fiasco, I've decided that it would be better if you got a nice little room of your own."

He strode forward and leaned against the bed pole, licking his lips and grinning.

"This is my own place?"

"Sure. Well, _most_ of it is," his grin grew more devilish and she cocked her head. "But we'll discuss that later. Better than sleeping on the floor all gagged up, right?"

She nodded. "So then I'm not going to be tied up anymore?"

He shrugged. "Maybe. If you're good. Anyway, the room's yours and you can do what you want with it."

_Well that's rather nice of him…NO, stop, remember that he's still keeping you here as his hostage. He can kill you anytime he wants to. _

"You should take off those clothes, Doc," Mr. J purred, immediately breaking her free from her thoughts.

"WHAT? What are you saying?"

He laughed. "Calm down. I meant you should go take them off and take a shower. You haven't had one for a few days now and I won't have you dirtying up the place."

He was right. Her hair needed some washing and there was street-soot on her cheeks. It was actually kind of funny considering the fact that he probably had the messiest hair she'd ever seen.

"Scoot into that bathroom. Go on." He pulled her to her feet and shoved her towards the door. She didn't even bother struggling and complied obediently.

When the door was shut, she immediately locked it and stood there in silence for a while. Finally, she removed her clothing and timidly stepped into the tub. As warm water began to caress her body, she sighed in ease and could finally have some time to think.

_Okay. What now, Harleen? Where do we go from here? He doesn't seem to really want to kill you. But then again, maybe he only wants you alive for a little while. You can't let him get to you. You're the hostage, but damnit, you're not going to end up like all the other toys he's broken!_

She turned up the heat a bit and paused, listening for any sounds outside the bathroom door. She hoped he still wasn't there waiting for her.

_Come on, you can't keep acting like such a big baby. This is wild country now. You are not a little child, you are still Dr. Quinzel. And Dr. Quinzel is going to be no one's fucking victim._

Her heart beat faster and her hands balled into tight fists. She had to keep strong as much as possible.

Stepping out of the tub, she was glad to finally be clean. Wrapping a towel around her body, she cautiously peeked into the room and hoped he wasn't there to see her.

"Harley-girl," his voice rang from the hall outside the room. "When you're done getting dressed, come and join us here."

Against her wishes, her knees trembled at the sound of his voice and she cursed herself for being such a scaredy-cat. Then she turned her gaze towards the outfit on the bed. It was a comfortable red blouse that was just her size and she was almost touched to think that he had gotten it for her.

_For someone that claims that he's not a schemer, he's certainly put a lot of time and effort into this whole situation…_

Then she began to enter the hallway, biting her lip all the way. She entered a big room, the one that she had seen the day before. It had a small, beaten-up tv, a couch, an armchair and a tiny kitchen-like area with dusty counters and an oven. Mr. J was sitting in the armchair and he jumped up when he saw her.

"Take a look at this, boys. Isn't she a sight to behold?"

The five men surrounding him nodded and grunted their approval. Her vision finally clear, Harleen could finally see them for the first time.

First there was Len, wearing that ugly sneer of his. Intense anger towards him gently rumbled within her but she made sure that she didn't make it outwardly visible. The bastard didn't need to have the satisfaction of seeing it. Next to Len stood a tall man with large, strong arms and a dark beard. He had a scar running down his left cheek, though it was not as bad as Mr. J's, and calm gray eyes. Then, next to him, stood two hulking men both holding their guns in their pockets. Though they both seemed to be of equal stature, one's hair was a light brown while the other's was jet black. Both of them seemed at ease and nodded to her at the same time. Last stood the smallest man of the bunch. He had a lean, scrawny body with twitching fingers and wild dark-brown hair. His eyes constantly shifted around the room and she felt a wave of uneasiness whenever he turned his gaze towards her.

"Harley, meet the boys. You already know ole Len of course."

"Nice to see you again," he said with a smirk.

_Fucking bastard…I hate him_.

"Say hello to Dr. Harley, boys. She's our new guest as you all know. Go on, say hello."

"Hello," they all said emotionlessly.

Mr. J wrapped an arm around her shoulder and she flinched. "That outfit looks good on you, Doc. I'll have to get more." Then he began to herd her around the room until he finally decided to push her onto the couch.

"Boss," Len said gently. "Shouldn't we-"

"Hush, Lennie-boy. Got all the time in the world to go and blow shit up. Harley and I are going to sit here for a while."

"Yes, boss," Len sighed and he and the others began to move away.

"So, Harley," Mr. J began as he twirled a strand of her brown hair. "Let's talk."

"Talk?"

"Yes. Talk. Isn't that the whole gist of the doctor/patient thing?"

She leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "We're not at the asylum and I'm not your doctor. I'm your hostage."

"Got a point there, Harl. Still, what's going on in that little mind of yours, hm? What's little hostage-Harleen thinking right now?"

She closed her eyes. "I want to go home."

"Oh, surprise, surprise. Same thing you've been whining about for days. Tell me, Harley, do you really want to go back? What's different out there from in here?"

"…Lots of things."

"Yeah? Like what? Name five."

She shrugged. "Well, safety, a job, a career to build up on, being among non-dangerous people, and just overall contact with the authorities. Stuff like that."

His eyes glittered. "You didn't mention your family."

"Yes, well…"

"What's wrong? Daddy and Mommy not happy? Brothers or Sisters giving you a hard time?"

"It's really none of your business."

"Maybe it is."

"Where is YOUR family, Mr. J?"

"Oh, you'd like to know wouldn't you?" He stared at the wall for a minute and then furrowed his brow a bit. His scars twitched. Then he blinked and turned towards her again.

"Anyway," he said. "There's nothing back out there for you really. The world and the people in it-nothing but bullshit. It's just a stupid spinning ball filled with mindless, conforming zombies that would rather follow the meaningless rules than dare to enjoy the wild side of life."

"…"

"And as for your job, do you really think that it truly matters? Day in, day out, just moving around with the humdrum majority, wasting time until you're an old maid without a single spark of life in those blue eyes of yours. The thought of it makes me want to hurl."

When she looked away, he turned her face back towards his. "Harley, there's so much…so much of a real person lurking inside of you, waiting to be set free. You try to keep it down, but you know that it's there. All you have to do is let go of all your restraints. Then you can be like me: alive."

"I _am_ alive," she said firmly. "This is who I am. This is me."

"Horrible liar," he grumbled, shaking his head. "What was that last night when you were fighting off those street punks then? You were ready to kill those bastards. I saw it in your eyes, how they shined as you fought."

"I was scared. I snapped a little out of fright."

"That wasn't Dr. Quinzel I saw. That was something else. That was Harley Quinn."

Her eyes hardened. "No."

He sighed and leaned back. "Poor old Doc. You don't know how to let things out. Always so sullen. You really ought to laugh more…"

They were silent for a while as they stared off into space. Finally, he stood up and stretched.

"Alright, fellows," he called. "Let's get going."

"Where are you going?"

"A little business on the town. Gotham needs to know who's the real baddie on campus. It'll be a couple of hours."

_He's going? But then…_

"Cutter, old buddy, come here for a bit."

"Yes, boss?" It was the tall fellow with the beard and the gray eyes.

"I need you to keep an eye on Harley here. Make sure she doesn't get into any more mischief."

"Yes, boss."

Then Mr. J turned and began to head for the door, his cohorts following behind him.

"I'll be back later, my little harlequin. Don't give Cutter too much trouble." And then with a grin, he sauntered out.

Harleen and the man were alone.


	13. Cutter

**DAY 4 (Part 2)**

Harleen looked out the window in her room, watching the streets. Mr. J had been gone for almost an hour now and she was beginning to feel rather forlorn. It wasn't that she needed his company; she just wanted his presence to give her something to be wary about.

"He won't be back 'til later," the tall man with the beard said as he approached her. "No use sitting around waiting for him."

She turned and stared at him, not used to the sound of a new voice.

"Oh. Right."

"Are you hungry?" he asked. "The boss told me to tell you that there's food in the fridge if you want it."

She inhaled sharply. "You're that guy from before, aren't you? You were the one who brought the bucket for me while I was tied up."

He nodded. "Yes. That's correct. The boss has appointed me to look after you while he's not around. I was the one who convinced him to let me bring you the bucket in the first place."

"Thanks for that," she said softly. Then she tilted her head and inspected him. Despite his towering and raggedy appearance, there was something warm and kind in his eyes, almost paternal. "You seem rather nice for someone working for the Joker."

He laughed. "We go way back, the boss and me. I owe him my life."

"Really? How?"

He stared off into space, the lines on his forehead becoming more prominent, making him look older than he already appeared to be. She could read sadness on those lines, regret for something in the past that he clearly didn't wish to remember.

He turned and gave her a melancholy smile. "I'll save that story for another day." Then he went over to the small kitchen area and opened the fridge. After rummaging through its contents, he pulled out a roast beef sandwich wrapped in foil and handed it to her.

"Eat that. You've got to be pretty hungry, I'll bet."

She gobbled it up, regardless of the fact that she generally wasn't a fan of roast beef, and looked longingly towards the fridge for another. She wanted all the food she could get to satisfy the aching rumblings of her half-starved stomach.

He chuckled when he saw her face. "All right, one more then."

He watched her as she munched down on the second sandwich, his gray eyes moving this way and that way all across her features.

"So you're a doctor?"

"Yes," she said between mouthfuls. "I am. Or used to be 'til I came here."

"Pardon my saying this, but you look really young for a doctor."

She huffed. "I _hate_ it when people say that. Everyone's always telling me that. I became a doctor a little earlier than others and my face doesn't really age, that's all."

"Most people would kill to have a youthful-looking face, me included, and I'm almost 47 now. You should be glad that you're still young and full of life."

She shrugged. "I just want people to take me seriously. Youth might give you life, but age gives you _respect_."

He took a can of beer from the fridge and opened it, watching it foam in his hands. "I'll drink to that." He took a long swig from the can and offered one to her.

"No thanks."

"Not a drinking kind of gal?"

"Not really…"

He plopped down onto the sofa of the main room and sipped at his drink. "Good thinking. Good doctors like you shouldn't drink. You need those minds of yours to stay nice and sharp."

Harleen realized that she rather liked this man. He had a certain flare about him that gave him a rather dignified kind of charm. If this was to be the fellow who'd be watching her, she didn't mind at all.

Suddenly feeling rather shy, she timidly crept forward and sat down on the other side of the sofa.

"The boss tells me you got a rather quirky name."

She blushed. "He told you it, I assume."

"Yup. But then again, we're a rather quirky crew, all of us here. Me and the boss."

"What about the others? Who are they?"

"Them? Well if you wanna know…you saw the skinny, twitchy guy right?"

She nodded, remembering the feeling of unease that he'd given her.

"That's Poke. He's a real nutjob, that one. Burns everything in sight if he's got a firearm. Where the boss found him, God knows, but he's crazy as hell. But he's a damned good sniper. Not too bad with knives either. He's a total wacko and he lusts for violence, but he's actually pretty useful. I'd just not mess with him if I were you."

_God, I'm among a bunch of murderous, psychos!_

"What about the other two men I saw?" Was all she asked, not wanting to show her discomfort.

"Rocco and Henshaw. Their cousins, but you'd think that they were brothers considering how inseparable they are. Never leave each other's sides. They don't talk that much, but they're very useful when it comes to physical work. Strong as bulls, those two. And then, of course, there's that snide fellow that's always pawing at the boss…"

She sat up straight. "You mean Len."

"Yeah, that guy. He's a real pain in the ass. Always trying to squeeze as much money from the boss as possible. Gives us all a really hard time whenever we have to listen to his many complaints. Why he's still around, I'll never know. The boss might hand him something well-deserved one of these days…"

She shuddered. "So you guys, you all work for Mr. J…and you…"

"…Kill people? What did you think we just go out on business trips?"

"I've seen all the reports about Mr. J on tv and in the paper, I _know_ that he's a murderer. He's killed hundreds of people, some bad and some innocent."

"That's how we stay alive. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there. And the boss doesn't do it over stuff like money and turf…he does it to prove a point to the world."

"So then do you agree with him?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes yes and sometimes no. I can't really say. But the boss seems to know what he's doing. That's good enough for me. Personally, I don't like killing innocents, but if the boss wants it, that's all there is to it. Defy him and your brains end up splattered all over the wall."

She stared into his face and could see the hidden remorse within it. His pale gray eyes were tired and as distant as the sea. _Poor guy, _she thought.

Then she blinked. "I just remembered, you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Tobias Fletcher. But folks just call me Cutter."

"Cutter…"

He nodded approvingly. "You got it."

"Cutter, tell me, can I ever go back?"

"Don't know really. You're not dead and you haven't been maimed or anything, so I don't think that the boss intends anything bad to happen to you. The boss likes you."

"But _why_ does he like me? Why'd I have to be the one he'd kidnap only for him to just keep me here alive? What does he see that I don't?"

"Don't really know, girlie. But either way, he sees something. And because of this, you're stuck here with us. That's all there is to it. Now personally, I think I like you. You've got a really nice air about you that I haven't seen for a long time. But boss's orders are boss's orders."

Cutter turned his attention towards the window.

"Storms coming. Maybe tonight. You can see it in the clouds."

"A storm?"

He looked sadly into her face. "Yes. You can feel it in the air. Or maybe you can't. There's a storm always brewing about in this city…it comes in great waves and slashes through the streets like a gust of wind. It always is storming here…all the time…" He trailed off and for a while, they just sat there in silence.

Finally, he turned back towards her and gave her a friendly nudge. "Why don't we pass the time with a card game or two? You good at cards?"

"Well…I'm not all that bad at poker…"

He laughed. "That's good enough for me. Let's play."

And they did.

XxX

"Why'd you pick the boss of all people to interview?" Cutter was asking. It was night now and they were still here playing poker. But Harleen didn't mind that much. She'd already beat him about six times now.

"Mostly because of his reputation. I'd heard all the stories they told about him…all the legends that were spawned from his actions whenever he was loose. I wanted in. I wanted to be the one to cure him."

Cutter frowned. "That's the thing though. The boss doesn't need to be cured."

"You don't really believe that right? I mean, he's murdered hundreds of people. He almost took all of Gotham out with that incident on the ferries. He wears clown paint and runs around blowing things up. Cutter, that's pretty crazy."

He simply shook his head. "No. The boss…is not the person worthy of such a debasing description. He truly is something most remarkable here on Earth."

"Killing people is remarkable?"

"I told you before. All of us here have taken a life at one point of time. I remember shooting a man in the head for the first time like it was yesterday. But the boss…he doesn't care about the same concepts that worry us. He's glad just to be living. And he's driven by one common goal."

"Which is?"

Cutter's gray eyes seemed to glow. "To awaken the world."

Harleen inhaled sharply. To her own surprise, she had felt exhilarated when he said that. But she then felt disgusted with herself for getting excited over it. "That's silly. The world isn't asleep. Chaos isn't the way to awaken people. Mr. J's ideologies and beliefs are completely warped."

"Maybe so. But when all's said and done, I think he's more alive than the rest of us."

She shook her head. "No. He's _not_ as alive. I don't think he does what he does out of the feeling of obligation to enlighten the world, I think that he does it because he's scared of having to face the world as a normal person. He'd rather kill someone and run than be confined by rules."

"What is he like to you?"

She stared at the cards in her hands. "He's an animal."

"Maybe he is a bit. But I think, that deep down, he's been hurt a great deal. Something in the past…something he can't remember anymore…I think that the boss, despite all his jokes and grins, is really kind of sad inside."

Her brow furrowed and she swallowed. Suddenly, she felt bad for calling Mr. J an animal. Despite what she had said, she couldn't bring herself to dislike him, especially after he had saved her the day before. Hearing Cutter's words about him had made her heart ache.

Cutter looked down at the cards on the table. "Aw, shoot! You beat me again! For a shrink, you're pretty good at this."

She blushed shyly. "Not really, but thanks."

"Where'd you learn your skills? I gotta found out."

She was just about to tell him when the door slammed open and Mr. J trotted in, Len and his other henchmen beside him. Mr. J's face paint was smeared and there were droplets of blood on his coat, but he looked pretty satisfied.

"Daddy's home, Harl."

She approached him timidly, like a puppy afraid of being kicked.

"Hello," she said quietly.

He grinned and moved forward; wrapping an arm around her waist and making her feel decidedly uncomfortable. "Did you miss me?" She didn't reply.

"How was she, Cutter?"

"Fine, boss. She didn't do anything bad. I watched her the whole time."

"And _that_," Mr. J said while whirling Harleen around in front of the others. "_That_ is why Cutter is my favorite. Unlike _some people_, he actually does his job diligently."

"Sorry, boss," one of the cousins said.

"Yeah," the other one answered.

Mr. J held her close and twirled a strand of her hair. "Were you good, Harley?"

"Y-yes," she stammered, hating how much of a child he was making her sound like.

"Really? No escape attempts? That'd be a rude thing to do to poor old Cutter. He's had it rough enough as it is."

"I didn't do anything. Honest!"

He chuckled. "I know you didn't sweet-pea. I just love messing with you. You should know that by now." He strolled over to the sofa, dragging her along with him. "Take a seat for a bit now, Harley. I've got…ah, 'business-like' to attend to." After sitting her down, he went over into another room, presumably his study, and closed the door behind him.

"What a day," Len groaned, leaning against the wall. "Be glad you weren't there, Cutter. The boss was making us do the old loot-and-run bit all around town. Cops almost got us. I'm beginning to think that this all ain't worth it."

"You should be glad just to be able to work alongside the boss," Cutter growled. "Whining about your problems isn't going to make things better."

"Yeah, yeah. But things are gonna change for me real soon. After the boss pays me that big payment he promised, I'm outta here."

The twitchy man called Poke grinned sickeningly. "You'll be outta here all right. The boss will make sure of it, hee hee…"

"Shut the fuck up, you fucking firebug. The only reason you're here is because of your sickening attraction to blood and fire. You're probably going to be the next one on the boss's victim-list."

But Poke just continued to smile that eerie smile of his and said nothing.

Cutter stepped forward. "That's enough, Len. Everyone's tired and not in the mood for your shit. Go down onto your floor and go to bed."

Len, perhaps seeing that Cutter was certainly capable of breaking his neck at any moment, relented and moved towards the door. "Bunch of dirty fucking assholes," he muttered before leaving.

"I don't like that guy," the cousin with the jet-black hair said quietly. "Poke might be right when he said that the boss might off him one of these days. He's always complaining and whining and it's going to get him in trouble one of these days."

"Forget about him, Rocco," the brown-haired cousin replied. "It is not worth it to dwell on idiots like Len."

Poke yawned loudly. "I dunno about you sorry blokes, but I'm going to get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day. Places to see, things to do, houses to burn…" He chuckled, as if sharing a private joke with himself, and went for the door. "Oh, and nice to meet you, Harley. Never got to become acquainted with you earlier. I'm Poke."

"Cutter told me," she said, trying not to look perturbed. Poke smiled his death-god's smile and left.

"What about you guys?" Cutter asked Rocco and Henshaw. "It's awfully late. You guys going to bed?"

They nodded at the same time. "We were just about to go," Henshaw replied. Then they were gone too.

"Were do they go to sleep, Cutter?"

"Down on separate floors. This is a pretty big apartment, y'see. Of course, since I'm the boss's main guy, I sleep here on the couch. But I wanted to make sure that they'd leave. The cousins are alright, but guys like Poke and Len get awfully unnerving around nighttime. Best to keep you out of harm's way."

_That's sweet of him._

She looked towards the window. "The storm's here it looks like." Sure enough, it was raining heavily outside. Lightning flashed in the distance.

"You'd better go to sleep now too."

"Yeah. I guess so." She _was_ feeling rather tired.

"Let's get you to bed," Mr. J said, reemerging from the other room. "Come along now."

Cutter called out good night to her as Mr. J began to push her towards her room. The room was dark, save for the glow of moonlight that appeared from the stormy window.

Mr. J threw off his blood-splattered coat and took off his gloves. He went into the bathroom briefly and then reappeared with a face clean of clown paint. Even in the darkness, she was aware of his long, jagged scars. They stretched through his face, giving him what looked like an eternal grin. It was certainly a spooky sight to see in the gloom. And yet despite this, she felt that they were the symbols of his soul. Cutter's words came back to her.

"_I think that the boss, despite all his jokes and grins, is really kind of sad inside."_

Was he really sad on the inside? He certainly never acted like it. She studied his features. Ignoring the scars and the greasy hair, he was a rather attractive man. He had a lean figure with expressive hands and golden-brown eyes. But the problem was that those hands and those eyes belonged to a murderer.

"Well? Get in the bed," he said, breaking her from her trance.

She blinked. "You mean…you and me are…?"

"That's right. Sharing it. I told you that this room was _mostly_ yours. But this is the only bed on this floor, it's made for two people and I just couldn't bring myself to deprive Cutter of his sleeping place. Poor bastard doesn't deserve it."

"I'm-I'm not-"

"Say what you want. Either you sleep here or on the floor and I don't think that'll be comfortable. Especially since that's where you've been sleeping for three days now."

She glared at him. "I don't trust you."

He giggled. "Afraid I'll do something naughty? No need to fear, doc. I'm a harmless little pet, really." He made his best lonely-puppy look that almost was enough to melt her heart if it weren't for her unwillingness.

His face grew serious. "I mean it, Harley. Rape means nothing to me. Would I like to fuck the shit out of you? Hell yes, but I don't like it when it's forced." He licked his lips. "Besides, I'm looking forward to the day when you come to me on your own free will. Won't that be fun?"

"That'll _never_ happen," she hissed. "And anyway, I'm not going to share a bed with you. I won't!"

He lay on the bed and rolled over onto his side. "Go ahead and stand there all night then. Do what you want. I won't stop you."

She stood there awkwardly in the darkness for a while, biting her lip and lost in some inner debate whirling around in her brain. Mr. J exhaled softly and was still. Perhaps he had gone to sleep.

Her eyes were getting heavy._ Maybe I should just get into the bed with him, he promised not to assault me. No! What are you thinking? Have you lost all sense? He's the fucking __**Joker**__! What kind of promise can he make that is trustworthy? But still…no! But I'm so sleepy…but…but I…_

KABOOM! A bolt lightning flashed outside, followed by the deafening crash of thunder. It spooked her and, in a panic, she dove for the bed, clinging to him in fright. She hated the sound of thunder more than the idea of sleeping next to a killer.

Burying her head underneath the covers, she whimpered as the ear-splitting symphony of the thunder continued outside. It made her tremble in fear, remembering the time she had accidentally locked herself outside during a thunderstorm once when she was little. She had hid and cried in the bushes with her stuffed rabbit, Sammy, until the neighbors found her.

Suddenly, she felt his hand on her head and her heart fluttered in panic. But the hand simply stroked her head gently, soothingly.

"Hush, Harley. Just go to sleep and shut up. Shhh…" He continued to pet her for a while, and then turned back onto his side, facing away from her.

_What the hell was that? _He had comforted her…and she had liked it!

_Well lose that feeling, you foolish thing. I hope you're satisfied. Now you're sleeping next to a psycho and it's your own fault. He's probably only acting nice to you because he's half-asleep. Yes, that's it. Don't expect him to act like that in the morning, assuming of course if you're still alive by then._

Mimicking him, she rolled onto her side and stared at the shadows on the wall. They were now sleeping back-to-back but she didn't care as much now. Her eyes were as heavy as lead and she couldn't fight them as they closed shut.

_He won't do anything. I'm worrying too much. He's terrifying, but he's not as murderous as they think he is…maybe…I've…been…wrong…_

Harleen drifted off into slumber, cocooned within the warmth of the covers as the rain poured down outside.

And in the darkness of the room, the ghost of a smile could be seen on the Joker's face.


	14. Two of a Kind

**Day Five**

When Harleen awoke, the space next to her was empty. And, to her relief, nothing bad had become of her in the night.

_See?_ She told herself. _I was just being silly. Mr. J didn't try to rape or hurt me after all._

Then she rubbed her eyes and looked around for him. He didn't appear to be here.

There was a new outfit on the bathroom door handle, a sleek black one with comfortable-looking slacks. After showering, she dressed and even took the time to look at herself with the new outfit on in the mirror.

_Where is he getting all these clothes? I didn't see this one here yesterday so where and when does he get them? All the same, it's kind of nice, I guess, that he gives them to me. Better than having to walk around here naked._

She shuddered at the thought and promised that it would never come to that. Then she slowly tip-toed out into the hall and peeked into the main living room. Mr. J wasn't there, but the others were. They were talking amongst each other like grade-schoolers as they engaged in a round of what was either poker or blackjack.

Then she stepped forward, greeting them with quiet shyness. "Hi."

Cutter looked up and grinned. "Hey. Morning, Harley."

"Where's Mr. J?"

"The boss went out briefly for some private business," Rocco said.

"He'll be back in a bit," Henshaw said after him.

"Oh." She stood there, feeling their eyes staring into her, making her turn red.

"Poke, get a chair for her," instructed Cutter. "A lady shouldn't be kept standing when there are seats."

So she sat at the table with them, keeping close to Cutter for protection from the others.

Poke inspected her. "Awfully pretty face for a doctor. It's one I could definitely get used to."

"Um…thanks, I guess…"

His eyes glittered. "Your face reminds me an awful lot of my sister's. She wanted to be a doctor too. Well, a surgeon really. She would've done really well at the job."

"What happened to her?" Harleen asked, curious.

He stared at his cards with an absent-minded smile. "I killed her. Bashed her skull in, I did. She was a bitch anyway. But you don't need to fear from me, doctor. I don't kill someone who's special to the boss. You and I will be friends, make no doubt of it."

"_Last time _you said that you had killed your _mother_," Len sneered. "You keep changing the story around. For the record, it doesn't make you look scarier; it just makes you look like a lying prick."

Poke smiled widely and didn't reply.

Then Len turned his attention to Harleen. "Hey, doc, one thing you should know by now is that all of these guys are a bunch of assholes. Even Cutter there. They talk all tough but they aren't as badass as they think they are."

"_You_ included," she replied, making the others chuckle.

Len laughed harshly. "Still pissed at me, huh? Well, it don't matter to me. I don't have that many days left to waste here anyway." Then he got up and went over to the couch to sit alone.

Rocco smiled at her. "Good to see that we four aren't the only ones that can't stand Len."

"Well, he _is_ asking for it," she said. "Or maybe he doesn't realize what a whiny moron he is. He'd be a great case for a shrink like me to study. _Subconsciously_, I bet he thinks he's Aristotle."

Poke pointed to her. "I _like_ her," he said to Cutter. "She really knows how to say it."

"Yes," Cutter replied, pinching her cheek. "Harley's a bit of a minx it seems."

They continued to chat whilst playing cards and for Harleen it was as if they had been good friends for years. She talked to them like they were real people and almost forgot the fact that they were all murderers. They seemed to like her and she decided that despite the fact that they were Joker's henchmen, they weren't all bad, even murderous weirdoes like Poke. As they continued to prattle on, Mr. J walked in through the main doorway, grinning from ear to ear.

"Well now, seems you've taken to the boys, Harley-girl. Come here so that I can get a look at you."

She went to him obediently and he leaned forward and grasped her chin, staring into her face. "Now isn't there a pretty one? How are you, doc?"

"Okay," she breathed, staring into the hypnotizing light of his eyes. "Where were you?"

He licked his scars. "Out snooping around the neighborhood a bit, my pet. You never know when we might have, ah, _unwanted company_."

She tilted her head. Did he mean the Batman? Was the Batman or the police even still looking for her?

Mr. J went over to the card table and greeted his cronies. "Cutter, my man, life is going good. How the hell are you?"

"Fine, boss."

"Hey, boss," Poke nudged. "Are we going out and…well, you know...?"

"Not today, Poke old boy," he went back over to Harleen and put an arm around her shoulder. "Consider today a day off. Today, I just want to spend some quality time with my favorite hostage-shrink." Harleen blushed and quivered underneath the weight of his arm.

"I've got a nice place where we can go," he whispered in her ear. "But only if you're going to be good."

"I will be," she promised. "I'm not going to try to run off or anything."

He beamed. "That's my girl."

XxX

"Take a look, Harl," Mr. J said to her as she gazed out into the horizon.

They were on the roof or the apartment and the sunrise was out in full bloom. It was an awfully pretty sight. Despite the gray, gloomy look of Gotham city in the distance, it seemed almost cheerful in the sunlight.

"Why did you bring me up here?"

"I needed someplace where it could just be you and me," he answered, licking his scars again. "I didn't feel like shooing away the boys."

She stared out into the streets, baffled at their desertedness. Mr. J really had brought her to a secluded part of town.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he was saying. "No pesky people with their mundane lives, no annoying car horns and traffic. Just peace. This is the reason why I like this area of Gotham the best."

"The sunrise is rather pretty."

He smiled. "Yes, well that too. You know what? I think this is going to be our special place from now on. We can go here whenever I want to talk with you."

She blinked. "What do you mean?"

"We should often talk to each other. We've got a lot in common, you and I."

She turned away. "We _don't_, Mr. J. I'm not like you and you are not like me."

"How do you know that? Sure, we're a lot alike. The only difference is that you're the doctor and I'm the crazy patient. You wear a mask and I don't."

She sighed. "_Again_ with the whole masks thing? Mr. J, for the last time, I do not wear a mask. I don't hide my true self on the inside, this is the real me. You and I are as different as can be. I'm sane and you are mentally-ill. You need help and I do not. You like to hurt and kill people and I would never do that. I think that it is completely safe to say that I am not like you in the slightest."

He twirled her hair in his fingertips. "You have such a pretty shine to your hair, Harley."

"Are you even listening?"

"Such a shame that you're a brunette. I'd bet that you'd look great as a blonde."

She rolled her eyes. He was about as attentive as a first-grader. The only thing he lacked was a messy backpack and a lunchbox.

He ran a finger down her cheek and she flinched.

"Such pretty skin too. So soft and untouched. Not like mine. Wanna know how I got these scars, Harley?" Her eyes widened as his face came closer to hers.

Then he drew back, laughing. "Ooh, you look so cute! Those big blue eyes of yours…it's enough to make me all fuzzy inside!"

"You wanted to tell me about your scars."

He grunted. "Yeah. But it wouldn't be the truth. You said that before."

"I know."

He walked around her in a circle, grinning gently. "How about you tell me about your own life, Harley? Then I'd tell you the truth. Wouldn't that be fair?"

She shook her head. "I've told you before; it is none of your business, Mr. J."

He pouted. "Come on, it wouldn't kill you!"

But she stood firm. "No."

"Then at least tell me something about your life without the dirty details. What did you like to do as a kid?"

Against her wishes, she gave in. "Alright. Well, I liked gymnastics of course. I enjoyed the feel of it all. My instructor used to say that I was naturally talented at it."

"Oh really? Go on; show me a cartwheel or flip or something."

She stared at him flabbergasted. "You want me to show you something up _here_…on this roof?"

"You're not going to fall off the roof, Harley. It's nice and stable with plenty of space."

"But…but, I haven't practiced in a long time…"

"Don't be so shy, doc. _Show me_." The light in his eyes was calm and commanding and she knew better than to say no.

Very slowly, she stepped a good length away from him and performed a cartwheel, turning scarlet red as she stared into his face. She felt like an idiot.

He beamed and clapped her hard on the back. "Not bad, Harley. Not bad at all. Of course, I should've figured out that you were good at physical stuff when you managed to climb and jump your way down the fire escape two days ago. Show me another."

And she did, feeling uneasy and embarrassed.

_Look at me. Here I am on the roof with the most dangerous man in Gotham performing like his trained dog. I've really sunk to a new low._

But in spite of her humiliation, he seemed to be rather encouraging.

"I think you're really good, Harley. You've got real talent."

After he coaxed her into doing a few more flips, she sat down panting.

"I've gotten really unpracticed with it," she told him. "It's been a while since I've last been to the gym."

He plopped down next to her and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Well, you'll just have to keep practicing. If you try your hardest, you'll get back to being as good as you used to be."

Something about the way he said it made her feel rather warm inside. It was nice that he was so sweet and reassuring about it.

"Tell me something else about you," he said. "Did you have any friends growing up?"

"Not really. I had a group of girls I hung around with, but they actually weren't all that friendly towards me. I mostly just tagged along. Until I got into high school, I really didn't have anyone to talk to other than Sammy."

_Crap! Why did I tell him that?_

He smiled in amused curiosity. "Sammy? Who's that?"

She began to blush a bright pink, sweating slightly from awkwardness. "My stuffed rabbit. I used to drag him everywhere…"

_God, this is mortifying. I must sound like such an insecure baby._

"I had a stuffed animal friend once too," he said. "A little stuffed giraffe. Don't remember what I named it, but it was my closest companion. Don't look so ashamed, Harley, it's not something to be embarrassed about."

"Yeah…"

"Whatever happened to Sammy?"

"I…must have lost him or something. I don't remember…" She shook her head. "Enough about me. This stuff is awkward and I shouldn't be telling you about it."

He stared at her, his eyes full of seriousness and concern. "You _should_ tell me, Harley. I'm always ready to listen."

"You shouldn't. There's nothing extraordinary about me. No one cares."

He reached over and petted her hair gently, soothingly. "But _I _do, Harl. I think that you really ought to open up more."

She moved away from him, staring out into the distance with a frown. He crept closer to her, whispering and cooing into her ear.

"Harley, Harley, Harley…why don't you just smile already? I've yet to see you laugh once. I'll bet you have such a pretty laugh underneath all that controlled somberness of yours."

He poked her shoulder playfully and she twitched a little, trying to ignore his attempts to get her to grin. There was nothing really to smile about. Here she was on the roof as the Joker's hostage, unable to ever escape or return to the life she once knew.

"Come on, Harley…don't make me hafta…_tickle you_!"

Like a tiger, he pounced on her suddenly and unexpectedly, tickling every part of her he could get. She shrieked at first and tried to escape, twisting out of his arms frantically. But he kept on with it, taking off her shoes and tickling her feet with spirited intensity. Finally, it was too much to bear. Laughter escaped her lips in full leaping heaves, filling the air with giddy, unsuppressed joy that she had not heard in a long time.

Mr. J laughed with her, continuing to tickle her as she gasped in hilarity. Finally, he released her and she backed away, wiping her eyes and breathing roughly.

"Now _that_ was laughter," he said with a smug grin, making her hate him for doing this to her. "It's not every day that I get to hear something as beautiful as that from other people. Most folks just point and run away and scream like banshees."

"Why-why'd you do that?" she asked, scooting as far from him as possible in the event he wanted to do it again.

He scooted with her. "Because that is the way you should always be…laughing and smiling. There are too many things in this world to be upset about. But that's what's great about laughter, its release from it all. Never hide your laughter, Harley."

She curled up into a ball and hugged her knees tightly. "You really are the strangest kidnapper I've ever seen. What kind of kidnapper tries to tickle people?"

He chuckled. "You're the only hostage I'll ever want to tickle, my sweet."

"You're sick."

"And you're the funnest prisoner I've ever had."

"…So what about the truth now? You said that you'd tell me the truth about your scars f I told you a bit about myself."

His scar twitched and he scratched at his hair. "Hm. That's right. Didn't think you'd remember."

Her face fell. "You're not really going to tell, are you?"

"Bing! Correct!"

She sighed in frustration. "What did I expect? I should've known."

"Now hold on, Harl. I'm a man of my word. It will all come in good time."

"Right."

Then they were silent for a while, watching the sun begin to shine its light over the shadowy streets.

"Mr. J? Why am I here? Why me?"

"I've told you before, Harley-girl, we've got a lot in common. Sure, you can scoff at it, but we really do."

"Like what?"

He stared into her eyes. "We've both been outcasts, you and me. We've been hiding in the shadows and scrounging around for something to live for. We've both lived empty lives. The only difference is that I've gotten past it all and have found my laughter."

As he said it, he pointed to his scars, tracing around them with his fingers. "But Harley…you can't keep your true self bottled up forever. You have to let her out if you want to truly live. Otherwise you'll never be happy, not if you returned to your everyday life, not if you wrote a tell-all book, and not if you keep on lying to yourself."

She swallowed. Her throat was dry. As much as she wanted to correct him, there was something about it all that made sense. Something shifted slightly within her, though she wasn't sure just what. It called out to her from the inside, calling her name over and over again.

"_Harley…Harley…Harley…"_

Her head was pounding and he, almost as if sensing it, took her head and pressed it against his own, his eyes gazing unblinking into hers.

"Harley," he whispered softly, hypnotically. "My little harlequin…"

Then she pulled away from him, not wanting to have to meet his eyes any more. It was shameless how much he was trying to manipulate her, how conniving he was in trying to make her think what he wanted her to think.

_I can't keep letting him get to me. He's just going to keep digging further and further into me until I break down. That's what he really wants. But I have to prove him wrong. No matter how much sense he makes, I __**have**__ to prove him wrong…_

Mr. J tapped her lightly. "Let's go back inside." And he led her down the stairs and back into the main room, letting her go off to be by herself while he conversed with the others.

_Remember, Harleen. _She reminded herself. _Don't become his pawn. Tough it out as much as possible. His charms are strong, but you've got to be stronger_.

But inside of her, a great void of doubt was beginning to form within her heart.


	15. Regression

**Day 6**

She stared at the letter he had left for her that morning, half relieved, half disappointed.

_**Harley,**_

_**The boys and I will be out again today. Be good with Cutter. **_

_**P.S.-Don't forget to smile! **_**(A smiley-face doodle could be seen here)**

**-**_**J**_

She sighed, somewhat annoyed. She wished he didn't have to go so much. Not that she didn't enjoy Cutter's company, she was just beginning to worry what would happen if Mr. J was injured or caught.

_What do you care? They catch him and they'll find you probably. _

But the more she thought about it, the more she hoped it didn't happen. Mr. J was manipulative and controlling and at points dangerous, but he also seemed to genuinely be interested in her needs. And after being here for almost a week, she could unwillingly admit to herself that she had begun to respect him slightly.

_But we're not friends. He's still my captor._ All the same, she didn't want to see him get hurt.

She did the usual routine of bathing and dressing. She even took some time to read a book from the bookshelf in her room. But somehow, it was almost boring, as if she needed Mr. J's presence in order to have some excitement in her life. So she just wasted half the day chatting with Cutter and lounging around idly the apartment. Nothing really exciting happened.

Not until the afternoon at least.

XxX

She was sitting with Cutter on the sofa, reading a book aloud to him as he listened with his eyes closed. Feeling apathetic, she stopped and sighed.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just feel so…empty lately. This is kind of dull, no offense."

He smiled. "You remind me a lot of my daughter, always so impatient and ready for some excitement."

"Your daughter?"

He nodded and looked at the wall. "Yes….But she's gone now so…forget it. Let's just do something else, shall we?"

He got up and went forward towards the battered-up television set that rested in front of them. "A little bit of tv won't hurt."

"That thing actually works? I thought that it was just there for looks."

"Yes it works. It looks like a piece of shit, but it actually gets pretty good reception. Shall we watch?"

"Okay."

He turned it on and for a while, they watched mindless things like reality television and old reruns of watered down sitcoms. It was only after she pleaded nonstop did he change the channel to the news network.

"**Just recently,"** the news anchor was saying, **"there have been over five accounts of reported sightings of the Scarecrow, otherwise known as Jonathan Crane, in parts of east Gotham. Mr. Crane is reported to have broken out of Arkham Asylum around four days after the abduction of Dr. Harleen Quinzel. The GPD says that despite Crane's escape, they are still trying to focus on finding the girl and bringing her kidnapper, the notorious Joker to justice."**

_Oh. So they're still looking for me. Fine job they're doing since they've yet to find me._

"They won't catch the boss," Cutter said. "The boss is too smart for them. All the boss has to worry about is the Bat." Then he stared at her compassionately. "I'm afraid that you're still going to be stuck here for quite some time."

"**Also in the news today,"** the anchor continued, **"the mayor has issued a new curfew for Gotham's residents. Due to the influx of criminal activity, he advises everyone to not wander around the streets at night or let their children play outside after dark."**

"No one will listen though," Harleen commented. "People in Gotham never listen."

"Never much cared for the mayor's decisions," Cutter sniffed.

"**And just it, it has been discovered recently that several sources of Gotham's drinking water have been contaminated with a kind of toxin. The police and Gotham's Clean Water Association have promised to get the situation under control within the next few days. The initial suspect is the Scarecrow but authorities say-ATTENTION! There's breaking news coming from downtown Gotham. I'm not entirely sure what but it appears to be another bank robbing from the Joker."**

Both Harleen and Cutter jumped as the camera cut to a helicopter-view of a bank building with at least twenty police cars stationed around it.

"**Folks, I'm just getting the information now as we speak, but it appears to be that the criminal known as the Joker is within the building with several people at gunpoint. The police are trying to get into the building, but it appears that the doors have been tightly bolted…"**

"What the hell is he doing!" she shouted at the screen. "He's going to get himself killed!"

"No," Cutter said, shaking his head. "Not the boss. He'll find a way out."

"**I can't quite make out what's going on, but gunfire can be heard and…wait! Officers are going down! Two have collapsed and three more are still trying to get in while bleeding. This is terrible!"**

Harleen twisted from side to side, twitching in excitement, panic, and frustration. "They'll try to kill him for that! They'll catch him in a few minutes. Look! A whole group of them managed to make their way in!"

But Cutter kept calm. "He'd have to be close to escaping if it got to the point where they could get in. That's always the boss's strategy."

She stared at him. "I thought he wasn't the type that makes plans. So how can he have a strategy?"

"Hush."

"**The police are in now…and…from what it looks like, they are releasing the hostages. No sign of the Joker yet, but let's see the results. It looks like they're searching."**

The anchor was silent for a few minutes and Harleen felt as if they were the longest minutes of her life.

If they caught him, they would either kill him or use him to find her before locking him back up. But from the way the police had charged in, it seemed very likely that they would likely kill him. Then how were they going to find her? And now that she thought about it, she really didn't want to see him get hurt. Even after all the horrible things he put her through there were many good things he had done for her to even it out. So she didn't want him to suffer.

"**This just in,"** the anchor said, making them both inhale sharply. **"The Joker has gotten away. They've searched the place but were unable to capture him or any of his accomplices. We're not sure just how much money was stolen, but-"**

Cutter clicked off the television. "He made it out. That's enough of that for one day."

Her mouth was gaping, still staring at the blank screen. "How did he manage to do it? He managed to get himself and the others out somehow before the police could get in…"

Cutter shrugged. "The boss always knows what he's doing. He's done this kind of thing before. If I know him, he'll probably lay low for a few hours before making it back here."

She bit her lip, her brows furrowing.

"What do you want to do now? Want to play some cards?"

But she didn't answer. She just continued to stare absently out the window.

XxX

She lay on the sofa, eyes closed and fluttering somewhere between a doze and sluggish semi-consciousness. The sound of the rain outside had made her sleepy and she had nodded off before she had realized it. Cutter had apparently stepped out briefly for a smoke and wouldn't be seen again until later. For a while, she was content to just simply exist in this quiet state of insensibility, free from her racing heart, and free from her worry.

Then the sound of the door opening struck the air like a shaft of lightening and her eyes snapped open instantly. They had returned and were now hooting wildly, Poke laughing the loudest of all of all of them. They had several large black bags that were stuffed to the brim and Harleen didn't have to guess what was in them. They entered through the doorway and then proceeded to open bottles of wine, marching all around the place like untamed children.

Mr. J swooped over and spun her around. "My pet," he purred quietly. She swallowed, turning a bright shade of pink.

"Cutter, you should've been there! We scored a big one this time. They didn't even get the time to come _close_ to catching us!"

"Poke did a number on some of 'em. Shot a whole bunch of 'em down by aiming through the window before we got out."

Poke grinned cheekily, almost nastily. "Wasn't even trying. They made it too easy."

"We watched it all on the news. I'm glad to see that you guys didn't get yourselves killed."

"Relax," Len said. "Thanks to this little trip, we picked up a whole bunch of dough."

Harleen looked up at Mr. J, who was calm, at ease, and (just a tad) disappointed. This was rather puzzling. She had heard that the Joker wasn't in it all just for money. Here he was with what was probably millions of dollars in cash and yet he seemed rather detached from the others, composed and not nearly as enthused as they were.

_Maybe it was for something else…maybe he just really wanted to attract the Batman's attention. That would make sense wouldn't it?_

But whatever her thoughts were, she kept them to herself. Mr. J leaned against her and flashed a devilish grin, suddenly becoming cheerful again.

"This event calls for a celebration, don't you think, Harley?"

She nodded dimly.

"Rocco, bring over that wine. I'm living it up tonight!"

They opened bottle after bottle, drinking from fancy glasses that she had not yet discovered. Cutter was chuckling, watching as Henshaw accidently had a bottle spray foam into his face when he had opened it too roughly.

Mr. J swallowed a glass in a single gulp and handed one over to her, watching amusedly as she eyed it with cautious reluctance.

"Go ahead. It's not poison."

"I'm not much of a drinker."

He tut-tutted and then proceeded to fill it up more. "You're not, hm? Well, there's a time and a place for everything. Come on, Harl, just a few little glasses won't kill you. You need to let loose a bit."

"But…"

_Oh, what's the use arguing? He is sort of right. It won't kill me. And it's better than having him come here bleeding with a gunshot wound or in ill-humor. Might as well…_

She downed the glass and exhaled roughly, unused to the taste, letting it run down her throat like a bitter river. She had never been all that fond of wine.

He laughed, pointing at her face. "You look so pathetically disgusted. It's adorable, doc!" He pinched her cheek good-humoredly.

She pulled away and went over to join Cutter and the others, beginning to feel slightly exuberated all the while.

"The point is that guns just ain't as pleasing as knives," Poke was saying. "You can't polish a gun, can you? And you certainly can't feel the same kind of power that only a knife has. The boss is right when he says that knives are better for savoring it all."

"I disagree," Cutter said. "I don't like seeing all that blood. Unlike the boss, I'd just rather end it quickly and painlessly. All things, regardless of how low they rank in morality or values, shouldn't have to suffer in death."

Len guffawed. "No wonder the boss made you the one in charge of staying here! You're just a big pussy! How can you talk that way about guns when your name is _Cutter_? Makes no sense."

"Don't be talking shit about Cutter," Rocco said. "He's toughed it out just as must as we have in the past. Don't underestimate him."

"I just have yet to actually see him running around with us," Len answered, almost grumbling.

"That's only because you're still rather new. Believe me. Cutter's done some badass shit in his time. Don't fuck with Cutter."

"Yeah," Cutter said absently. "Don't fuck with me." He looked sad somehow, like a shadow full of far-away memories.

Poke giggled like a hyena and swayed slightly. "Point of it all, brothers, is that both knives and Cutter kick fucking ass."

Harleen poured herself another glass. She didn't mind the taste as much the second time. Sipping it, she crept up next to Cutter and touched his arm gently. He turned and smiled at her, patting her hand.

"I'd pick this one over the lot of you any day," Cutter said to them. "She doesn't go around talking about killing and violence and stuff like that all the time."

"Indeed," Poke agreed. "Don't have any bad blood do you, sweetness?"

"Maybe just a little," she said smirking slightly. The wine was beginning to make her feel bold, mischievous. "But then again, everyone does. It's all a matter of choosing whether or not to follow it."

"You really ought to try it sometime. You get yourself a nice little flamethrower, you find yourself something good and flammable and then…magic." Poke's eyes shined, excited at the thought of it.

She closed her eyes and rested her head against Cutter's shoulder. "No. I don't think so."

"Harley isn't like that," Cutter said. "She isn't batshit like the rest of you. She's a good girl."

"Of course she is," Mr. J said as he strode over and wrapped his arm around her, refilling her glass. "She's a pure little thing." The way he said it sounded too syrupy, almost sarcastic. Then he walked her away from the others in his typical domineering fashion and sat her next to him.

"So," he said, licking his scars. "Were you worried earlier, Harley? That's what Cutter told me. He told me you were a fidgety wreck."

She drank her third glass, beginning to feel a tad loopy. "You could've gotten yourself killed. It was stupid what you did, Mr. J."

"Oh? So you were worried? Afraid your old pal Uncle J was going to take a tumble, hm?"

"…"

"Harley, you and me are friends at this point, right?"

She looked at him with a mixture of hate and honest fondness. "I suppose we are. In a forced kind of way. I'm beginning to wish that you wouldn't step out all of the time. It gets too quiet around here sometimes. I guess I've gotten used to you bothering the crap out of me all the time…"

He clucked and pulled at her hair. "Come on, my sweet; let's see a smile for daddy. It's been a long day and I could really use one." He began to tickle her like he had done yesterday. The only difference was that this time, she didn't really feel like struggling. She simply gave in and laughed, letting it bubble out of her in pleasurable bursts of mirth.

_I forgot about how good it is to laugh…_

When it was over, he took her half-empty wine glass and held it up to her lips. She drank it down without even realizing it, still lost in the feeling of giddiness of laughter that she hadn't felt for a long time. Her head was beginning to spin as if she were caught on a tilt-a-whirl. Everything felt loose, sluggish and silly.

"How long has it been since you've had a really good laugh at things, Harley?"

"I dunno," she slurred slightly. "Things just got in the way, y'know? An' it certainly didn't help that ya had to go an' drag me here."

"Is that all this place is to you, Harley? A prison?"

She looked at him, her eyes a bit heavy. "No. Not anymore, at least. I just wish ya wouldn't go an' leave me here an' kill people an' do other fuckin' crazy things."

"But I'm not really crazy, Harl. You know that."

"Yeah…I guess…"

"Hey, boss," Len said approaching them. "We're all gonna split the dough, right? I mean, I really been wondering when that paycheck for me is coming so…"

Harleen went over and shoved him roughly, almost knocking him down. "We were talkin', ya greedy lump! He _shot_ people for that money an' here ya are actin' like ya gotta right to get yer grimy paws on it! Jus' piss off for once!"

Everyone was staring at her now, making the spinning in her head grow.

_Whoa, back up what was that…? No way, nuh uh. Did I just say all that stuff?_

Len was backing away from her, glaring. He looked at her as if she was crazy and she wanted to hit him, really, really badly.

Turning towards Mr. J, she stumbled and almost fell over.

"Sorry…didn't mean…I didn't…" A string of mindless babble escaped her lips and she stumbled again, leaning against Mr. J for support.

"I think someone needs to be put to bed," she heard him whisper, and before she could say anything, he scooped her up in his arms and began to carry her towards the bedroom.

"Sorry, boys. You'll have to party without me. Looks like Harls is feeling a bit under the weather."

"Boss, I'll put her to bed. You should stay here and relax with the others."

"No, Cutter. I was feeling a bit slumberous anyway. Just chill here for a while and do whatever."

"Boss…" Len was starting to whine again.

"And kindly shut the fuck up, Lennie-boy. I'm no longer in the mood to hear your shit." Harleen smiled at this comment, glad to see that Mr. J was just as annoyed at Len as she was.

She felt Mr. J carrying her towards the bedroom and placing her on the bed.

"I guess I won't give you alcohol again," he said in a half-amused, half-intrigued voice. "_Big _mistake."

The last thing she remembered was the sound of her giggling, fading off softly into the gloom.


	16. A War in Gotham

**Day Seven**

The aching pounding in her head was almost unbearable. It had struck her the moment she woke up that morning, causing her to moan as she stared up at the ceiling. Beside her, Mr. J chuckled underneath the sheets.

"Sounds like a hell of a hangover."

"I feel pretty bad. I've had some before, but not like this. I really overdid things last night."

"You'll have to remind me not to give you too much liquor. Clearly, you're not one for holding it."

The inside of her mouth tasted bitter and she felt as if her head had been split in two. As Mr. J got up and padded nonchalantly towards the bathroom to urinate, she simply lay there and tried to clear her hazy mind.

_It's a bit funny,_ she thought,_ I never would have thought that years from then I would be sharing a bed with a psychotic clown and waking up in it with a hangover. How does something like that even happen?_

She laughed at the thought, almost enough to burst out crying.

"What's so funny?" he asked as he came back.

"Nothing. Just…me thinking about dumb things. I've been doing that a lot lately."

"Well," he said gruffly. "You'd better go shower and get dressed. I've been planning something special for today and I want you to be as up to it as possible."

"You mean…you going to stay here today?"

"You got it," he said while licking his scars. "You said last night that you didn't want me to go so often, so I figured I'd make an effort to spend some quality time with my favorite little harlequin-hostage." He grinned mischievously at her and she blushed slightly, somewhat embarrassed though she couldn't fathom why. Then he gave her a gentle shove towards the bathroom, throwing a towel at her.

"Don't be too long."

_What is he, the Joker or my roommate?_

But she complied and shut the door behind her, stepping into the shower as the comforting spray of warm water rained down upon her. Her head was killing her, pounding like drum. It was enough to make her resolve never to drink too much again.

She wrapped a towel around her body and walked out, surprised to see that he was still there in the bedroom, smiling naughtily.

"Well, well…"

"Don't look at me! Get out!" She immediately ran back towards the bathroom and hid behind the door.

"No need to feel ashamed, Harley. It's a nice view."

She turned red and suppressed the urge to vomit. "I had no idea you were such a pervert."

His grin grew and he came forward, making her shriek as she nearly tripped backwards trying to get away from him. He cornered her and chuckled as he pinned her against the bathroom wall.

"I'm not a pervert," he said, his breath hot against her cheek. "We sleep in the same bed, Harl, it's time we stopped caring so much about stupid things like this."

"But…still! Please go away. I don't want you…to…to…"

"See you? Don't worry, my pet. I'll see you in good time, when you decide to come to me willingly." He licked his lips and she shuddered. Then he drew back and acted as if nothing had happened.

"All right, I'm only kidding, Harley. No need to get so embarrassed. Your clothes are on the bed."

"You're a jerk."

"Of course I am. Move it." Then, mercifully, he left her. She was shaking furiously, ashamed that she had been stupid enough to trust his discretion. But perhaps she was shaking more furiously was because for a moment, just a moment, she had felt her body cry out to him like a person drowning out at sea, yearning to see what he felt like, how he'd explore her.

Her head pounded painfully and she darted over to the toilet and promptly threw up in mortified disgust for herself.

_Never, __**never**__ think those things again. How many times does it take for it to sink in, Harleen? This. Is. The Joker. He isn't your every-day man. He kills because he thinks it's funny. He's killed and maimed so many people, probably women and small children too. Stop acting like such a damned fool!_

She rubbed her temples and met him in the hall, glaring at him with contempt.

"Don't ever do that again. We may share a bed, Mr. J, but it is not ever going to be like _that_."

He smiled all-knowingly. "We'll see." She wanted to slap him but resisted the urge, fearing his temper.

Then she looked around for the boys, not used to the place being so quiet. "Where is everyone?"

"Gave them the day off. They needed one anyway. It's just you and me today, kiddo."

"Everyone? Even Cutter?"

"That's right. He needed a break just as much as everyone else. It isn't easy catering to your needs every day, you know."

"What are we going to do then?"

His mouth stretched into a large wolfish grin and he whirled her around him.

"We're going out, my dear. Out of this place and into the streets. Would you like that?"

She trembled, excited at the notion of temporarily being freed of the apartment. "Oh yes! Please!"

"Are you sure, Harley? Are you going to be good?"

"Yes. I will. Yes."

"It could be dangerous. Rogue gang members prowling about, either Maroni's gang or Crane's. Are you sure you're up to it?" His words conveyed seriousness, but his voice was teasing.

"Mr. J," she said firmly, trying to sound bold. "Please don't tease me so. I've been cooped up here for _days_. I really want out."

"My my, awfully commanding today, aren't we? Could it be that little doctor Quinzel has finally grown something of a backbone?"

"Mr. J…"

He laughed and ruffled her hair. "Alright, alright. We'll go. But no need to get all authoritative, Harley. It really doesn't become you."

"Oh? And what does then?"

"Probably whenever there's a look of bloodlust on your face. I just love seeing that spark of fire in those sweet blue eyes of yours."

"There's nothing there."

He shrugged. "If you say so. Now come along…"

And he took her by the arm and led her out the door, watching her intently as she smiled at the feeling of cool air on her face.

XxX

"I never realized just how deserted this part of Gotham really is," she said as she gazed all around the empty streets. He had been leading her through endless blocks of uninhabited city jungle-land, letting her explore and take in the surroundings as they wandered together through desolate alleyways and storage facilities. "Why is it like this, Mr. J?"

"This part of town once used to be the biggest hot-spot Gotham ever saw. But then an outbreak of some kind of deadly disease occurred and everyone was getting sick. So the mayor quarantined this area from the public. No need to look so worried, there's no more disease around here. But people just have never got around to returning. No one really hangs around here except for gangs and us, of course."

A gray cat streaked by, holding a dead rat in its mouth. It was a sickening sight and Mr. J laughed at her when she groaned in disgust.

"There's a bit of that everywhere, Harl. All things have to eat, you know."

"It doesn't surprise me that I'd see it _here_," she said with a frown. "I don't like this place that much, Mr. J. Can we go back?"

He looked at her in honest surprise. "I thought you wanted out of the place, Harley? You wanted fresh air, didn't you?"

"Yes. But I don't think the air here is all that fresh. This place gives me the creeps."

He nodded. "That's to be understandable, I suppose. But it's really not as bad as you think. Buck up, Harley. You and I are taking a stroll and I won't be hearing any whining." He pulled out his knife and pointed it an inch from her face, reminding her that he was indeed, still her captor. "Got it?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes sir."

He smiled, friendly again. "That's my girl." Then he began to drag her along, bounding forward occasionally and forcing her to run after him every now and then. His tongue hung from his mouth like a dog's and his legs gobbled up and down the pavement as he raced ahead. He looked like a big child and it was enough to make her laugh out loud a little despite her unnerving surroundings.

"Look about, Harley. Behold Gotham as it was meant to be! No cars, no people. Nothing but a big playground of emptiness that is just _craving_ for me to start some chaos. If Poke were here, I'd let the bastard light the whole place on fire, let us all dance in the flames until we burn. Isn't it a beautiful thought? To die in a fiery glory? Isn't it beautiful?"

She closed her eyes and pictured it, trying to understand what he meant. She saw him, dancing in flames as they licked playfully at his skin. She saw herself dancing too, feeling the blazing heat cradle her as she was engulfed in crimson flame, like a phoenix.

_It IS beautiful. It is._

He went back to her side, suddenly serious. "But even this place isn't perfect. There's a war here too."

"A war?"

"Oh yes, my pet. A constant battle that rages all through Gotham. A battle between all forces; good, bad, and neutral. You got Gordon and his goons, trying to put all the puzzle pieces back into place when there's too many missing. You got the moronic citizens trying to stand up for their humdrum lives as if they really matter. You've got me trying to prove a point and awaken them all from their meaningless existences. You got the Batman hiding in the shadows, trying to prove something that I doubt will never be proven. And then you got idiots like Jeremiah Arkham that are stuck uselessly in the middle, too small-minded to comprehend the meaning of all of this."

"That's not true about Mr. Arkham. He's trying to do some good and cure the mentally-ill that try to hurt others in this city. You're wrong."

He looked into her eyes and held her face close to his. "But it's _true_, Harley. You know I'm right. Fools like Arkham have no real use in this war. All they do is try to administer kiddie Band-Aids to full-scale wounds. They don't care about people like you."

"They _do._ You're just too blind to see it."

"No. _You_ are. Think, Harley, how come your ole pal Arkham hasn't found you yet, hm? He has no real power and you're just another victim to him. He'll get over your disappearance in a few weeks and you'll be nothing more than a memory to him. And as for his patients, they mean nothing to him. They are just pawns in this whole grand scheme of things. It's the people like me and Crane that are the only ones who dare to defy his system. But he'll still lock us up and treat us like dogs regardless."

She turned away from him and bit her lip. If what he said wasn't true, why did it make so much sense? It was making her heart ache and she shut her eyes again.

"Don't close those eyes. Keep them open, Harley. You can't keep them shut like all the others. You have too much potential for that. If you keep them shut, you'll never be able to fully see the war that's going on around you."

"But I…don't want to see it! I don't _want to_!" Tears began to run down her cheeks and she sniffled pitifully, a sea of emotions raining down on her. Her head thundered in pain and she clutched it and whimpered.

Then she felt his gloved hand wiping her face, drying her cheeks. She blinked up at him and tried to read his expression. The way he gazed at her was confusing, neither tender nor unkind. It was just…both. His scars were still curled into that endless smile and his eyes still shined that unnatural glow, but somehow she wasn't afraid of him anymore.

"Stop bawling," he said. "Smile Harley. Let daddy see one."

And she did, in spite of her tears. How good it felt to smile. She understood why he valued it so much…it was relief from all forms of sorrow, a tiny gateway to Heaven that freed you from pain. He pushed back a lock of hair and patted her head again, watching how she seemed to twitch with gratification whenever he did that.

"Isn't this sweet?" A voice crept out from behind an alleyway, making them both jump. "I never thought you were capable of possessing feelings of tenderness, clown. So there really _is_ something of a human being behind that ridiculous face-paint of yours."

A man stepped out of the shadows, no less than six burly men behind him. Harleen couldn't see his face as it was covered with a raggedy sack with nothing more than two eye-holes and a long, jagged mouth. His form was lean and scrawny and he had long, delicate fingers that he used to express what he said.

_Jonathan Crane,_ she thought. _The Scarecrow._

"Scram, Crane. You should know by now that this is my turf."

But Crane ignored Mr. J and walked closer towards her. "So this is the woman I've been hearing so much on the news about. Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Pleasure to finally meet you face to face."

Mr. J growled low in his throat and pulled her close, possessively. "This is _mine_, Crane. She's not yours for the taking. She's _my _property and this is _my _turf. Scram or I'll give you something to be frightened about." He pulled his knife back out.

Crane laughed. "Oh _please_. You're in no position to threaten me. We outnumber you. I'm not here to squabble with you over territory. I just wanted to see what's become of your little doctor." He slunk forward and studied her face. She could feel his eyes staring into her from behind the mask. "Never would have guessed she'd be your type, clown. She looks as if she couldn't say boo to a goose. Grab him, men. I want a closer look."

Like lightning, Crane's goons tackled Mr. J and pinned him against the wall, making her cry out in fear as Crane pressed himself against her.

"Crane, you son of a bitch, you lay a single hair on her head and I'll kill you quicker than you can blink. No body touches her but me."

But Crane took no notice of his threats and gripped her tightly. "What do you fear, I wonder? Spiders? Darkness? Death?"

"Let go of me," she said with a low snarl.

"Hm. Tougher than you look. That's alright though. No need to be so frightened, doctor Quinzel, I'm not really an enemy. We're kindred spirits, you and me. We were both doctors. I'm sure you must possess something special about you since Joker has kept you alive all this time. Why not ditch the clown and come along with me?"

"Let. Me. Go!" She kicked him in the crotch as hard as she could muster and threw him to the ground. He laughed behind the mask and pulled out a syringe.

"If you insist on being Joker's plaything, why don't we at least try you out on some of my fear toxin, hm? I wonder how feisty you'll be then…"

But before he could get to her, a fountain of blood sprayed out from one of the henchmen's throats. Mr. J had slashed him and was now attempting to slash another's, grinning like a demon as blood splattered his face. Two more bodies fell.

"What the hell-" Crane began, but his words were cut off as Harleen kicked the syringe from out of his hand in one swift motion. Mr. J grabbed it and jabbed it into a henchman's arm, releasing him as he staggered back shrieking.

"Rats! Oh, Christ! Rats! They're fucking everywhere!"

Mr. J rammed Crane against the wall, holding his knife to his bony throat. "That's four goons, Johnny-boy. Do you want to see me kill the other two?"

"Alright, alright. Enough's enough. I'm done, clown. I'll leave."

"You'd better. If I see you come near her again, I won't let you off. Keep your hands to yourself and stay away from us."

"Yes. Okay. Alright." Mr. J threw Crane to the ground and waved the knife back and forth.

"Come on," Crane told his remaining henchmen. "Let's get out of here." And they turned and fled and were swallowed up in the shadows of the alleyway.

Mr. J turned to face her and she shuddered, slightly terrified at his blood-streaked face. It made his scars look more twisted than ever.

"You did well," he said, licking some of the blood that trailed down towards his mouth. "You showed him whose boss. It surprised me, really."

She came over and looked up into his face, taking in the coppery scent of blood.

"Are you hurt?"

He grinned. "Nah. Not a scratch. Those thugs couldn't hold me for long." He leaned into her and his breath tickled her ear. "Were you worried, my little harlequin?"

"Yes! Are you satisfied? YES. They could've killed you, Mr. J. And then…"

"…You'd be free."

"…But still, I don't want to see you get hurt. Despite everything, you're still my patient. I'd feel guilty for the rest of my life if you got yourself killed!"

His scars twitched. "Really, Harley? Do you really care this much about me?"

She stared up at him, her face earnest. "Yes. I do."

He turned and stared up at the gray sky, his nostrils flared as if he smelled smoke. The blood had dried itself into a crimson mask, making him seem more god-like than real. She was dazzled by the cruel beauty of the sight, her eyes drawn to him like a magnet. Then, without warning, he reached over and pulled at her ear playfully. She groaned at the pain.

"That's enough excitement for one day, I think. Let's head back."

And she followed him, never leaving his side for a minute as the afternoon mists of the street encased them.


	17. Manipulation

**Day Eight**

"There's something different about you lately," Cutter was telling her. "You seem more at ease, happier somehow."

"Do I?" She cocked her head.

"Yeah. But that's a good thing. I'm glad to see you in better spirits." Cutter, dear, sweet Cutter. Always speaking kindly to her….

"I didn't really notice, to tell you the truth."

"I see that you and the boss have finally become friends. You're always with him when he's here now. What happened yesterday with you two?" His eyes were like that of a father's, prodding with gentle concern.

"Nothing really. We wandered around and almost got ourselves killed. Don't ask me, it's a long story. Is Mr. J going to stay today?"

"I'm pretty sure he is."

"Good." She smiled widely, happy at this prospect.

_Happy__? When did that happen? I guess I've stopped being frightened by his presence. Cutter's right, I AM different somehow. _

But she didn't really care. It wasn't as if it were all that important anyway.

"The boss looked like he had come straight out of Hell yesterday," Henshaw commented. "His faced was streaked with someone's blood. I had thought that he had massacred you or something."

"No," Rocco replied. "He wouldn't hurt Harley. The boss doesn't see her the same way he sees everyone else, you can tell."

"Well, I _am_ still here," she said thoughtfully.

_Yes, I'm still here. Stiilll heeere…_ She smiled again, not really knowing why.

"Harley's a real beaut when she smiles," Poke said teasingly. "Pretty enough to mount on my hunting wall."

"You have such a way with words," she replied, and they all laughed.

Len watched them from the corner of the room, rolling his eyes.

"Idiots."

XxX

She was lying on the bed and reading a book when Mr. J entered the room and plopped down next to her.

"How's my little doctor doing today, hm?" His voice was indulgent, coddling enough for her to choke on the sweetness. He really knew how to make himself sound charming sometimes.

"Okay. I found this book in the bookshelf about rabbits, or something."

"_Watership Down_," he said out loud. "Nice little book 'bout bunnies tearing each other's guts out. _My_ kind of literature."

"That's gross."

"Oh, don't be so squeamish, Harley. I know that deep down you're probably _craving_ to read about sick stuff like that. Lots of people crave it but are too ashamed to admit it. But deep down, we're all a little bit bloodthirsty."

She sighed in mild annoyance. "Well, it hasn't gotten all that violent so far. It's about friggin' bunnies, for crying out loud."

As she continued to read, he leaned forward and hovered over her shoulder. She could feel his breath tickling her ear and she tried not to turn red.

"What say we go out on the roof for a little quality you-and-me time?" he asked with a wolfish grin.

"Well…"

"Come on, Harley. You and I have been getting along ever-so-nicely lately and I wanted to keep it up." He widened his eyes and gave her that much-hated lonely puppy look and she cursed herself for allowing him to guilt her into complying.

"Alright."

She followed him out of the apartment and onto the roof. The sun hid behind the clouds and, if it was possible, made Gotham look even grayer than ever. She was beginning to realize at just how ugly the main city looked from a distance in this light. Why she had chosen Gotham of all places to start a career, she'd never know.

Suddenly, Mr. J pounced on her, shoving her to the ground, laughing playfully.

"Owww…Why'd you do that?"

"Dunno. You were just standing there like such an easy target, so I couldn't help myself." His scars were quivering, stretched back in school-boyish hilarity.

"It wasn't funny. That hurt." Yet she still couldn't help but smile, slightly in awe of his juvenile exuberance. "You could have hurt me."

He tapped her head. "Oh, don't start whining. You're not bleeding. I just get into little moods sometimes. Everyone does."

"_I_ don't. And anyway, it only proves that you've got a mental disorder even more." She smirked at him.

"I'm not crazy, Harley. You should know that by now," he paused and, predictably, licked his lips. "What about you? Maybe _you're_ really the one who's crazy."

"No." She frowned and turned away, a wave of grimness passing through her.

"Hm. Insistent as usual. Tell me, Harley, where _did_ you learn such firmness? Did your Mommy and Daddy teach you it? Did you major in it in college?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, really? Look at me and tell me that."

"Look over there," she said, pointing in the distance and trying to change the subject. "There's smoke coming from that warehouse. Do you think it's a fire?"

"Harley," he said determinedly, shifting her face towards his. "Why don't you ever feel like talking about yourself? Don't you know that you're not going to be rejected here? What you say matters to me."

She sucked in air sharply, anger suddenly boiling within her. "I don't WANT to talk about me! Why would you want to hear about me? My life is _nothing_ of importance to you! I'm not going to tell you anything because it's not important! I'm not…important." Her fists were trembling and she had to hide them from him.

"Well now…I didn't expect you to get so angry about it that randomly. But, as you know, '_it only proves that you've got a mental disorder even more'_." He grinned at her and her knees shook in realization.

"Harley, my pet, I personally think that you're a very insecure young woman."

"Mr. J-"

"No," he said roughly, putting a finger to her lips. "Shut up for a moment, Harley, and let me talk. Let me be the doctor for once. I think you're secretly ashamed of yourself. Maybe you were just born that way or maybe you learned it through other people's reactions towards you, the latter I think is more likely. And that's why you became a doctor, I bet…to finally earn some level of respect and dignity. But, Harley-girl…you're suppressing yourself. In your efforts to find your feet, you're going to smother yourself with a half-life, a lie."

He reached over and twirled her hair in that absent-minded way of his and she felt a low whimper escape her lips.

"Why not tell me?" he asked softly. "I can keep a secret, Harley. I might kill folks and blow shit up, but I can most assuredly keep a secret. All you have to do is tell…"

"No. I can't…please don't…"

He hushed her. "Alright. I'm not going to beg. I think you'll eventually tell me with more time. But don't keep it bottled up forever."

"…."

"….."

"…..What do you do, Mr. J? What makes you not care about anything?"

He grinned and stood up. "Simple. I just don't care period. Something bad happens, then just forget about it and keep going. Caring is for those who plan. But those who don't, they're the victors in the end, the true comedians with an audience. So that's what I am, a comedian without a script. I don't take the time to worry about what affects people, I just add-lib. And because of it, life is less of a bother."

"I wish…I could be like that."

His eyes glittered. "Maybe one day you will. As I've said before, there is so much _potential_ lurking within you, Harley. All we have to do is let it out. We release your potential, Harley, and you'll never have to worry or care about things ever again."

"But how? How can we release it?" She still wasn't entirely sure what he meant by "potential", but she desperately wanted to find a way to going back to the happy state she had been in earlier.

Mr. J brought her to her feet and spun her around a little. "Small steps, my girl. Would you like to learn?"

Her eyes widened and she nodded.

His grin got wider.

XxX

Hours had gone by as he talked on to her, explaining the ways of the world, describing concepts unseen using his elegant, expressive hands. She listened like a child being told a bedtime story, drinking in his ramblings regardless of whether or not she agreed with them.

"There are many people on this planet, Harley. Big, small, fat, thin, ugly, handsome, whatever. People come in all shapes and sizes. But they're really all just the same inside. They don't give two flying fucks about you or your problems. They'd rather follow their own lives and blow you off. But you can't let them. It's a dog-eat-dog world and you have to fight to survive. If someone angers you, fight back. Don't be afraid to show them your inner animal. Let it all out and terrify them and they won't give you shit ever again. People are _scum_, Harley. But you can show them that you are their master. Let yourself run free and wild and fight them with all your might. They deserve it. Mankind isn't worth shit, really. They're the real clowns. Do you understand?"

She nodded. Something about the way he said it was very persuasive. She had felt herself agreeing with him on several instances.

"Look at this world, Harley. Don't you see the joke? You can feel it hovering over them, trying to whisper in their ears, and they still don't get it! See how they hide from all forms of disorder. Their lives run on a mundane daily schedule. And if we should try to muddle up that schedule, they go ballistic and reject us. They either wage war with us or just simply turn their heads and pretend we don't exist. But we DO exist, Harley. We're alive and they aren't. We breathe and wonder and dream and they don't. They think that their plans and their rules and their power is all that there is to life, but they're wrong. And that's the joke, my sweet, my pretty. It's a joke that only people like you and me are aware of. We see a code that no one else can see. We see the joke."

She stared at him, entranced by his passion. There was something terribly beautiful with the way he spoke, as if he were nothing more than an angel come to Earth to speak the truth. It was fascinating.

"Does the joke hurt us like it does them, Mr. J?"

He shrugged. "Depends on how you utilize it. If you can accept it and use it as your personal weapon, then the world can be yours."

"How do you use it? Without hurting people, I mean?"

His brown eyes seemed to turn black. "I laugh."

"But how does that help?"

"You laugh, Harley, and for a moment, all the pain is behind you. You're just stuck in a moment of happiness, no matter how brief it is. If you're always laughing, nothing can harm you." Then his gaze hardened. "Laugh for me."

"Huh?"

"I've heard you laugh several times before. But it was all over small things. I want to see you laugh for real."

"Mr. J, I can't do that. There's nothing to laugh at right now."

But he came forward and pressed her against him. She could feel his heartbeat. "Laugh," he whispered, and then he started to. It grew stronger each second, becoming booming and powerful. It stirred something deep within her and she chuckled a little bit.

"Laugh, Harley! Laugh my Harlequin!" And finally she did, feeling the air sucked from her as she roared laughter at the sky. Her laugh went up and up, sounding high-pitched and bubbly. There was almost something clownish about it…it seemed to merge too easily with Mr. J's. But nevertheless, she let it come in great, blissful bursts, relishing the soaring in her brain, the pleasurable aches in her belly. It was almost like touching Heaven.

When they both quieted down, Mr. J stroked her hair proudly. "That's my girl…" She felt she would burst with delight. "Do you recognize it, Harley? Do you feel what I said?"

"Yes," she murmured. "I've never laughed like that before. But it felt good."

"Good. You're beginning to get it. It's about time already."

She clung to him, suddenly anxious. "What else, Mr. J? What else can I learn?"

"I think that's probably enough for today."

"No, come on! I'm curious! I wanna know!"

"Sorry. Time to go in. We've spent the whole day up here. Besides, now that we've had this little chat, I've got a very special surprise for you."

A surprise? What kind of a surprise? Was it a gift? A reward for listening to him? She was puzzled.

"You'll see. Come along."

She followed him inside, almost bouncing like a puppy at his feet the whole way.

"Could you give me a hint? Is it an object?"

He smirked. "Not exactly. But perhaps something better for you…"

As he led her back into the apartment, she smiled cheerfully at Cutter. He looked curiously sad, as if some part of his heart was aching. He trailed slowly behind them, eyes to the floor.

_He can sometimes be a bit of a downer_. She giggled and hopped after Mr. J, energetic with anticipation. Strangely enough, Mr. J led her to the room where she had first been held captive, not yet opening the door.

"The surprise is…in this room?"

"That's right, Harley. It's in there waiting for you. But before I open the door I have to ask you something."

"Okay. Sure! What is it?"

"You and I are friends, right?"

"Yes. We are."

"And you generally want to listen to what I tell you to do, right?"

"I guess." She certainly didn't want to anger him.

"And you heard what I had to say…and agreed with some of it, right?"

"Yes." She was leaning forward, eager and impatient.

"Good." He opened the door and for a moment, the world was still.

XxX

"Mmf!"

Len? Why was he tied up? Why were Poke and the cousins standing over him with weapons? Why did Mr. J want to show her this?

"But…Len?" She turned to Mr. J, confused.

"Harmmf! Mrrrrgh, mmf! Helmmff!"

"What's going on? What are you doing to him?"

Mr. J leaned over her shoulder. "Ole Lennie here has outlived his worth. You saw how impudent he's been all week. Rocco told me that he was going to threaten to call the authorities if I didn't give him his share tonight. Well, I'm giving him his share all right. And you are just the girl to help me." He handed her his knife.

Her blue eyes widened as she tried to comprehend what he had just said.

"You mean…you want me to…._kill him_?" This was not happening.

"He's like all the others, Harley. He doesn't care about anyone but himself. People like that don't deserve to live. You heard what I told you earlier."

"Yes, but…but I don't want…."

He brought a hand up and tenderly stroked her cheek. "You want to be free don't you, Harley?"

"…Yes…"

"Then you can let it out. Kill him, Harley. He's just another meaningless tub of skin and organs. He's the one who got you caught here in the first place. Kill him."

Len was beginning to scream behind the gag, tears streaming from his eyes. The cousins squirmed and looked uncomfortable. Poke, on the other hand, was giggling profusely, his eyes blazing with excitement.

"Boss," Cutter spoke up. "Maybe this isn't a good idea. Don't make her…"

"Hush it, Cutter. Keep your mouth shut unless you want to be next on the chopping block. Well, Harley? Go on. Kill him."

She stared at the knife in her hand. It was as if a mist had clouded her head. She WANTED to use it. Wanted to sink it into flesh and watch the pretty red blood spray into the air. And yet, she DIDN'T want to use it. How could she ever bring herself to do it? She didn't want to hurt, or maim, or kill. Len was a bastard, but he didn't deserve death! No one deserved death! Her heart was pounding in her chest, making her head spin in a twisted whirlwind of desire and revulsion.

She couldn't take it. She fell to her knees and threw the knife across the room. "I won't kill him. I won't! I won't do it!"

Mr. J picked up the knife and dragged her by her hair towards Len, pushing the knife into her hand. There was pure terror in Len's eyes, a kind of primal, animal-like terror. It was a face that would haunt her for a long time.

"KILL HIM!"

"Don't waaaan't tooo!" she wailed, beginning to cry. Cutter had turned away, staring at the wall.

Mr. J snarled, grabbed the knife from her hands, and sliced it into Len's stomach. Crimson rain showered the two of them and she screamed in horror. Len was screaming too, louder than her. His eyes were wide and glassy and screamed fury. Then they turned blank and he slumped down. Droplets of blood stained the floor. He was dead.

Mr. J whirled around and punched her hard and fiercely in the stomach, making her wheeze in pain. His foot rammed into her knee cap and he growled savagely, his hair a rippling mess of tangles, his scars long, jagged, and pulled up into an enraged sneer. She tried to crawl away, but he grabbed her ankles and dragged her forward to meet his wrathful fist. One of her eyes was beginning to swell up and she tasted blood. The pain was unbearable. He stood over her, gritting his teeth in anger. His eyes, moments ago so friendly and patient, glowed red and pierced her soul like an arrow. He had stopped punching and kicking her and was now simply towering over her, watching her lay on the floor in a crumbled mess.

And then it happened.

She began to laugh softly, not really knowing why, letting it rise from her throat in a quiet whisper. The boys were uneasy, staring down at her in confusion and distress. She didn't care. The quiet laughter released itself from her throat and echoed eerily through the room. Squinting up with her good eye, Harleen could see Mr. J's face looming down at her. He looked as if he were witnessing something incredible, as if he was present for something of great importance. He scooped her up in his arms, not caring how much it hurt her to be moved.

"Clean up this mess, boys. Poke, burn the body." A delighted squeal.

And she continued to laugh until her bruised, beaten body met the soft comfort of the bed.

XxX

She woke up once, in the night, moaning in pain and shivering with a cold sweat. Her memories were frantic and chased her around and around like monsters in the closet, growling and crooning to her in hisses.

Blood. Len. Fists. Death. Kill. Laugh. Mr. J. Pain.

They repeated themselves in a constant, looping order. How they made her head ache, her body so tired and worn-out. She wanted peace. She wanted to go back to oblivion. Her head felt burning hot despite the chills in her body. Her eye was swollen shut and her kneecap surged with agony.

She switched from reality to nothingness, shivering and shaking all the way. She heard thunder in her head and instinctively, she tried to reach out to find her stuffed bunny, Sammy. But he wasn't there. There was nothing but her and the shakes and the pain and the nightmares that haunted her in the gloom.

And then a hand reached out and felt her forehead. A gruff mutter. Deep breathing. A murmur, soft as silk. The light flickering on and off.

And then, a field of blankets being wrapped around her body and a cool washcloth on her head. Whispering. Chiding. Indulging. Hands feeling her glands, rubbing a cool salve on her wounds.

What followed was only blackness. She rode the edges of slumber and plunged into the heart of obscurity. Beside her, someone was watching her as she slept feverishly, watching her in the darkness.

Hours past, and she woke up again. Her mind, still delirious, was aware enough to make out Mr. J's lean form sleeping next to her. All the sheets that should have been on his side were wrapped around her, keeping her warm.

Asleep, his face was peaceful and calm. There was no criminal there, no murderer, and no clownish-monster. He was nothing but a man drowsing tranquilly in the shadows.

Her bruises still ached like crazy and she was still shaking with fever, but she was conscious enough to be all too aware of him as he lay next to her. This man had tried to make her take a life, had attempted to influence her, and had abused her with no mercy. Yet this man had taken the kill for her instead, had told her he understood her, had attempted to soothe her shivering and aches.

Timidly, only half-aware of what she was doing, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. She didn't know why she did it and he was too deeply asleep to feel it. But she did it all the same.

"Thank you."

And nothing more was said.


	18. Wounds

**Day Nine**

He spent the whole morning nursing her back to health, spoon-feeding oatmeal to her and examining her bruises. What had happened yesterday had become a hazy half-memory and she found that she couldn't quite conjure the whole thing up in her head again. The memory had disappeared like the morning fog, lost to her despite the lingering bruises. Mr. J didn't mention the event again to her.

Then, around noon, he tired in playing doctor and rounded up the boys, preparing to go out. Even though she didn't want him to leave, she was content to have some quiet time to herself with Cutter so that she wouldn't have to use her sore body.

Cutter helped her move about, propping her up whenever she limped over to the fridge or to the bookshelf. He was constantly asking her what hurt and what didn't, making it painfully obvious that Mr. J had ordered him to act as his stand-in doctor while he was away.

"Cutter," she asked when he was testing her left leg. "You're Mr. J's main henchman. Why are you always so concerned about me?"

Cutter smiled, testing her other leg. "You're a nice kid."

"I'm not a kid! I'm an adult."

He ruffled her hair. "I know. But your face is very child-like. Don't take offense, Harley. It is a very good quality to have. Lots of girls would kill to look younger than they really are."

"…You told me before that I reminded you of your daughter."

The lines under his eyes became more prominent. "Yes. My Ellie. She'd be about twelve now, I think."

"You don't know?"

"I couldn't. She was a lot like you in some ways; same round eyes, same curiosity and spark. She had his sweet little button nose. That's what I used to call her…'my button'…"

She stared into his face, trying to read his mind. He smiled at her and helped her get to her feet.

"We should probably try some stretching techniques. It might help with the soreness."

His expression was kind, but his eyes were far away.

XxX

When Mr. J returned, she bounded around his heels like a giddy puppy, hopping up and down despite the soreness of her body.

"Calm down, Harley. I was only out for a short while. No need to freak out."

"I know. I really missed you though."

He grinned, clearly pleased with her answer and led her into the bedroom. "How's the leg feeling? Looks like the swelling has gone down some."

"Cutter was helping me handle it. It feels okay now."

He touched her cheek tenderly, his eyes staring into hers. "You're going to behave, right? You're not going to make me have to do that to you again, right?"

She gulped, unable to look away. "Yes. I'll try not to make you mad again."

"Good. You really disappointed me yesterday, Harley. You know that, don't you?"

Her heart ached at those words and she felt thoroughly disgusted with herself. "I'm sorry. I don't want to disappoint you." She lowered her head and stared at the floor.

"I know you don't want to disappoint me, sweetness. Perhaps I was being too forcing on you. Yes, that's it. Don't look so glum, Harley. Give daddy a smile."

And she did, forcing the corners of her mouth to curl upwards as she beamed at him, glad to see that he had apparently forgiven her.

_Look at you. This is getting pretty pathetic, Harleen. Whatever happened to not falling for his charms and manipulation? You've become a total victim! Quit now while you're ahead!_

But she told the voice within her to shut up. Of late, she was beginning to despise that voice and all its preachy melodrama.

He wrapped his arms around her and cooed. "Such a pretty smile. I love the way it makes your blue eyes light up, Harley. I'm telling you, you'd look great as a blonde. Ever thought of it?"

"Well…I don't know. I never thought that it suited me."

"Well _I _think it does. You should try it sometime, Harley-girl."

Then he sauntered over to the bed and sat on the edge, patting the space next to him to show that he wanted her to sit next to him. She went towards the bed and sat down, suddenly feeling very shy.

"You're turning red, doc. What, are you afraid of my war paint? It _is_ pretty terrifying today. I smeared it a great deal, you see."

"Nothing. It's not that." She wasn't going to sound like a foolish schoolgirl and point out that she was uncomfortable with them both sitting her on the bed. He'd laugh at her for that.

He examined her and suddenly, his scars stretched into a broad, cheeky smile. "Oh. I see. I can read your mind like a book, Harley. Thinking of _that_, huh?"

"No, I wasn't!" She was turning redder than ever. To her extreme embarrassment, he leaned over her, almost pinning her to the bed as she moaned in agitation and discomfort.

"All you have to say is 'yes', my pet. No need to be shy about it."

"No! No, Mr. J. I told you that it isn't like that!"

He sat up and shrugged, neither disappointed nor rebuffed. "Whatever. I was only messing with you anyway." Then he was silent.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so snappy. It's just, we're not like _that_, Mr. J. After all, I'm just you're hostage, nothing more and nothing less."

He twirled a strand of hair around his index finger. "No. You're _more_ than that, Harley. We're two of a kind, you and me. We're friends. You said so yourself."

"Cutter was wondering why Poke was limping," she said, changing the subject. "Did you guys get into an attack?"

"No. Poke just tripped down some stairs we were running down. It's hard to be graceful when the police are right behind you."

"Were you close to getting caught?"

He shook his head. "Nope. A couple of cops tried to surround us around the Gotham docks. We got away, of course. Tell Cutter not to worry."

"Cutter is always so concerned," she said admiringly. "He's killed people and he works for you, but he always manages to keep his heart in the right place. How does he do it?"

"Poor Cutter," Mr. J said, shaking his head. "He's had it really rough."

"What's his story? How'd he end up with you?"

"You don't want to hear, Harley. It'll damn near break your heart."

She nudged him firmly, hardening her eyes to appear tougher. "Tell me. I can handle it."

Mr. J chuckled at her firmness and shrugged. "Alright. Well about thirteen to twelve years ago, Cutter was with this dame somewhere in West Gotham. This chick was something of a bitch but Cutter, bless his heart, was smitten with her. He saw this floosy witch of a woman as this beautiful, perfect diamond. You get the idea?"

She nodded, eager to hear more. "Yes. I get it."

"So what happens? The dame gets knocked up. Cutter goes nuts trying to find a good job to help raise the baby and the dame couldn't care less. Nine months pass, the baby is born, and the bitch runs off, leaving Cutter as a single parent. Hard going, it becomes."

Harleen twitched, shivering at his words.

"…_runs off…single parent…"_ She whimpered and hoped he didn't notice.

"So Cutter raises his kid in poverty, trying to earn enough to feed her, to clothe her, to keep her healthy. It isn't easy. You got the bastard tax-collectors and the IRS and all the snooty wenches that stare at you with contempt as you try to make an honest living."

Her hands balled up into tight fists and she scowled as she imagined poor, sweet Cutter pleading desperately at them to give him a chance to take care of his daughter, being scorned and ripped apart in the process as they turned their backs on him. People really were hateful.

Mr. J watched her reaction, his eyes staring intently into her face. "Pretty soon, the kid gets sick. Pneumonia or something. So Cutter gets even more desperate than he was before. Starts running with big-name gangs just to earn some money for medicine. But these gangs…they're all mousetraps. They expect you to be totally loyal to them. So they force Cutter on all these dangerous outings, almost getting him killed. Meanwhile, the kid stays at home and coughs and shivers from sickness and there's nothing Cutter can do. Poor kid."

"Ellie," she said softly. "Her name was Ellie."

"Yeah. Anyway, so time's running out and Cutter is getting frantic since the kid isn't getting better. Then, the gang he's running with starts threatening him. Tells him that he isn't pulling his weight around enough. All of a sudden, the people he hoped would help him turn out to be just as useless and bad as everyone else. And now they're menacing him saying that they'll off him if he doesn't pay them fifty grand. Cutter's in deep shit."

"And Ellie? What happened to her?" She knew the answer even before he said it.

"She dies. Too sick and weak to survive. Cutter goes through this depression and wanders the streets, trying to get away from the gang that's coming to kill him."

Tears leaked out of Harleen's eyes, staining her cheeks. ""Poor kid! Poor Cutter! She didn't need to die! Isn't it bad enough not to have a mother to care for you! Why'd she have to die? It isn't fair!" She covered her face and sobbed into her hands, her heart in just as much pain as her body.

"That's the way things are, Harley," he said, somewhat startled by her intense burst of emotion. "People live, people die. It doesn't matter how fair things are…in the end, we're all worm food."

"Don't say that! It _should_ matter! No one deserves to live a harsh life! Oh, poor, poor Cutter…"

"As I was saying, so Cutter is on the run from this gang. One day, though, he just isn't quick enough. They catch up with him and tie him up at their place, ready to torture the poor bastard."

Her eyes widened. "What happened?"

"What do you think? **I** showed up. I killed the whole lot of them and saved his sorry ass. Don't know why I did it, really. Guess I thought that Cutter seemed rather useful to me. Like you, he had a lot of _potential_. So, now he works for me. Even after I told him to go out and live his own life, he just keeps sticking with me. For what it's worth, he's a damned useful member of this crew."

Then he touched her cheek again, wiping away her tears. "The lesson of the story, Harley, is that you never know what life might bring you. One minute things are looking fucking fantastic and the next minute things are fucking terrible. But for you, my pet, all you have to do is let me look after you. I looked after Cutter and now he's moved on from his pain. If you let me look after you, I can free you from yours."

"Let loose my potential, you mean? What was yesterday then? My 'potential' is to kill someone?"

"Don't make me say it for the millionth time. There's something wild behind those gentle eyes, just waiting to be released. How long do you plan to remain boring Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Harley? Cutter didn't want to remain Tobias Fletcher when he joined me, and now he's free. Let me free the Harley Quinn within you."

His mouth was only inches away from hers. His breath was warm on her face and her eyes blurred from the tears. She moved away from him, turning her head.

"You know," he said somewhat eerily. "I noticed how you reacted when I said that Cutter's dame ran out on him and his kid. Did I strike a nerve, hm? Did I awaken some painful memories in that hidden heart of yours?"

Her pupils seemed to dilate and she trembled. She didn't like where this was going.

"Looks like I might have solved a tiny piece of the puzzle. Care to enlighten me, Harley?"

But she didn't reply and continued to shake, her eyes wide and glassy. Feelings laced with pain swept through her body like a tidal wave, flooding her head with memories that she wanted to bury.

_Damn it. Damn it all_.

"What's wrong?" he asked nastily. "Did I press a little too far into little Harley's family scrapbook? Well, it doesn't matter. You just hide it inside of yourself anyway. That's bad for your health, you know. It eventually becomes enough to drive a person mad." His scars stretched, relishing her inner turmoil. "Go on, Harleen. Run off and play and pretend that you don't want to spill it to me. Go on." He pushed her to her feet, staring up at her to see what she would do next.

"_Go on, Harleen. Run off and play or something. I'm busy right now."_

Her lips trembled, almost trying to mouth something out. When Mr. J reached to touch her, she blinked and her shivering reached its peak. She jumped back and glared at him, tears streaming down her face.

"I won't tell you! I won't! You're mean and I hate you!"

"You don't really mean that, Harley. You care about me. You want to tell me, you're just too afraid to open up."

"No! Leave me alone! I hate you!" She turned and ran blindly from him, oblivious to the pain in her leg. He had opened a wound that hurt even more than her physical ones. He had reminded her of the agony, the hurt that she had hoped was long gone. The wall between them was stronger than ever.

_But why did I say that I hated him? I don't hate him. Oh God, why did I have to say that? It hurts…it hurts so much!_

Cutter looked up and saw her tear-streaked face. "Harley? What's wrong?" She rushed to her side.

_Oh, Cutter! Poor, poor Cutter! I'm so sorry about what happened to you and Ellie. It hurts…oh, God, it hurts!_

"Harley…" he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hushed her while she cried. She clung to him for a very long time, weeping for the life that they had both lost, lamenting the past that couldn't be mended.

From the other room, Mr. J stared into the mirror at his reflection, as if trying to find something human underneath the animal war-paint. With a growl, he slammed a fist into the glass and promptly went to bed, fighting bitter memories of his own.


	19. Little Girl Lost

**Day Ten**

_There's a little girl with baby-blue eyes and light-brown hair that sits on the porch and waits for the school bus. Sammy is in her arms, comforting her with his soft textures and his gentle sewed-on eyes. _

_The little girl wishes vainly that her mommy would come and see her off before school, but there is no chance whatsoever. Mommy has better things to do. Mommy doesn't want to take the time to make sure that she gets on the bus okay. Mommy just waits in the house, drinking her coffee and reading her work papers. That's the way things are…the way things have always been._

_Then the big yellow school bus pulls up the street and the little girl swallows and walks over towards the swinging doors. It is her first day of third grade and she is very nervous. Timidly, she walks up the steps and tries not to shake when she feels their eyes staring at her. A few girls giggle and whisper to each other and some boys point and laugh at her stuffed rabbit. Eventually, she manages to find a seat next to one of the nicer little girls and hugs Sammy to her chest. _

_She gives one last hopeful look out the window just in case Mommy has come to wave goodbye._

_But nobody is there._

XxX

She awoke in a cold sweat, breathing roughly and unevenly. A dream, that was all. That's all it was. The pillow was wet from her perspiration and she massaged her forehead in her hands.

"What's the matter?" Mr. J rolled over to face her in the darkness. His eyes glowed their unnatural light and the shadow of his scars could be seen. "It's three-thirty in the morning. Did you have a bad dream?"

"Yeah. Sort of." Her throat was dry and she coughed, rubbing her shoulders.

"Are you alright, my pet? I can't have you getting sick on me again."

She had forgiven him hours ago after their little spat. After being with him for ten days, she found that she just couldn't stay mad at him. And it _was_ rather sweet that he showed so much concern for her.

"I'm okay. I'm fine." But she knew she really wasn't. Her stomach clenched and she felt as if she would throw up. But she held it in, not wanting to irritate him.

She lay back down and rolled over to her side, staring at the wall. She could feel his eyes staring into her and she didn't care. Shutting her eyes, she tried to sink back into the hazy gloom of insensibility. Exhaling lightly, she fell back asleep and was allowed to flee from the memories for a little while. In sleep, she turned over onto her other side and she was face to face with the man next to her in the bed.

In the darkness, Mr. J gazed into her face as she slept. Her hair looked almost silver in the moonlight. Her face, so innocent and guileless in slumber, muttered something and called out in the blackness. But to _who_?

Slowly, he brushed a strand of hair from out of her face and licked his lips.

"Today, you tell me everything."

XxX

She took some time to hang around Cutter and the others that morning, wanting to feel their company, wanting to distract herself from the troubling memories that had laced themselves in her dreams.

"You got a cut on your face, Poke. What happened?"

"A little problem with a tree branch. Trees are wonderful tools to use to start a fire, but they fight back in their own way."

"Why start a fire right here? Surely you must have some sense?"

He giggled and clicked his tongue. "You never know when one will come in handy, doc. Besides, it was only going to be a little one. Just something to tide me over until I find some new action."

Rocco and Henshaw rolled their eyes and winked at her.

"Haven't seen much of the boss this morning," Cutter stated. "He's been lounging around in the bedroom. Hope he's not…ill."

"Oh, don't trouble yourself, Cutter," Rocco said. "He's fine. Everyone needs their space now and then and the boss is no exception."

"I've never seen you and Henshaw give each other some space," Harleen noted. "You two are always together."

Rocco turned a light shade of scarlet. "Yes, well…Henshaw and me are really close, you see. We have to look out for each other."

"You don't need to look embarrassed. I wasn't trying to sound so contradicting to you, Rocco. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Henshaw said warmly. "She's right, Rocco. Do we _ever_ leave each other alone?" A small grin formed on his face.

"I can't leave you alone. You'd probably get yourself killed in minutes. You're kind of inept, Henshaw."

"As are you, dear cousin." They both laughed and everyone else joined in, amused with their playful banter.

"I wish I had a cousin," Harleen said softly.

"You don't have one? Not from either of your parents' sides?"

"No…" And the pain came back, making her frown as she remembered her dreams, her memories. "Excuse me please…" She walked away and went to sit by herself on the couch. Cutter looked concerned but made sure that the boys didn't bother her. He figured that, like Mr. J, she now needed her space.

She fled for the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face, rubbing it over the lids of her eyes. She noticed a crack at the corner of the mirror and blinked in confusion.

_Where did that come from? Did Mr. J do that or did I?_ She'd have to ask him later.

Feeling refreshed, she went over towards the bookshelf and found a book on Roman history. She had never really expressed an interest in history, but it would be a good way to pass the time. Mr. J didn't appear to be around anyway.

On her belly, she spent the afternoon flipping through pages on Augustus and Tiberius and Caligula She was in the middle of reading about Caligula's assassination when Mr. J barged in.

"Hey, Harl. Reading again?"

"Yes. This bookshelf has a lot of random books to read. I went from bunnies to crazy emperors." She showed him the page she was on.

"Ah, Caligula. My personal favorite emperor." He strode over towards the bathroom and examined himself in the mirror, comically oblivious to his greasy, wild hair.

"Mr. J? What is it? What have you come to tell me?"

He turned and looked genuinely surprised. "What? Can't I just exist in the same room with you? I wanted to see if everything was alright with my little Harleykins. Especially after that bad dream she had this morning."

"Was I tossing around in my sleep?"

"Sweetness, after you fell back asleep, you were practically _writhing_. Pretty scary sight, if you ask me. You were moaning pretty loudly around five a.m. It kept me up for quite a while."

She bowed her head. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, don't be. I have better things to do than hold it against you. But what-oh-what were you dreaming about, Harley? Monsters? The Batman, perhaps? Granted, that deranged flying-rodent man _is_ rather frightening. Why he's Gotham's favorite vigilante, I'll never know." He frowned and sat down on the side of the bed.

"You've expressed a sort of vast obsession with Batman in the past."

"Obsession? No, my sweet, that doesn't even come _close_ to it. Batman is the other side of my card, the sun to my moon, the heads to my tails. A pity he hasn't found us yet. I'd kill for another tango with him again."

"If you want him here so much, why do you consider him an enemy?"

Mr. J licked his scars, his eyes glowing with a radiant light. "He drives me crazy. Like you, he has all this potential to let his true nature loose. But he keeps it inside like he's trying to prove something! How stupid! And while he has a somewhat stained reputation, he's the one still running loose while people like me are locked up. Now is that fair?"

She glared into space. "No. No, it's not. You're right. How is it that a man running around in a bat suit and beating up others isn't captured and put away?"

"But you see, despite this, I don't hate him."

"Why not?"

"Because I _need_ him, Harley. We were destined to continue this endless siege of order and chaos. There was a special bit of room on Earth for the two of us." He stared into her eyes. "Maybe you too…"

_What does he mean by that? Does he need me the same way he needs Batman? Someone…needs me…?_ Her heart was pounding.

He got up and pulled her to her feet. "Come. We're going on a walk."

She didn't even bother protesting as he dragged her along. She didn't want to.

XxX

"Do you feel it, Harley?"

"Feel what, Mr. J?"

"The joke of Gotham, my pet. All round us. It's in the air, down every alleyway. Under every sewer-hole."

Yes, she could feel it. She still didn't completely grasp what the joke was, but she could somewhat understand what he meant.

"Batman is out there somewhere, Harley. He's searching high and low for this place so that he can beat me up and steal you away from me. It's just like a fairy-tale. The brave, handsome prince has to save the princess from the dark, evil dragon."

"I was never one for fairytales," she said dryly. "I never was told that many when I was young."

He raised an eyebrow. "A pity."

A gust of wind blew through the crisp afternoon air and sent discarded newspapers floating down the street. It made her feel cold and she kept close to him for warmth. He grinned and enfolded her with his thick purple coat, letting her walk with it on while he watched in amusement.

"Looks good on you. I'll have to get you one of your own sometime. Only not purple…that's MY color. Red is more of your color. Or black."

Absentmindedly, he picked up two trashcan lids and began banging them together as if they were symbols. "Yoo hoo! Batsy? Where are you at?" Nothing but the wind replied and he threw down the lids in disappointment.

"You shouldn't do that. Suppose he really _was_ there. Then you'd be in for it."

"Oh, shut up. I like some excitement every now and then. Let's keep walking."

They went on, wandering aimlessly just like they had the last time. Only this time, she was more at ease with her environment, content simply just to have his company. The abandoned apartments looked so lonely in the afternoon shade, like lost little puppies that were abandoned long ago by cruel masters. It reminded her of the suburbs she had grown up in: gray, forlorn-looking, and stretching for miles and miles.

_Home…_

She stared into space and breathed in sharply, trying to conjure up the ordinary feelings of happy nostalgia that every other person felt about their childhood. But all that came was a melancholy sensation of nothingness…a lonely gray sky that drifted out into the horizon.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. This place…it just reminds me of…of…" She trailed off, unable to think of what to say to him.

Out of the blue, it started to rain. Droplets poured down from the sky, matting her hair against her face.

"Shoot! Let's find some cover. Look, there's an empty store over there. We can take shelter in there." Grabbing her arm, he led her towards the uninhibited area and kicked the door open without trying. He nudged her inside and sat down next to her against a wall.

"Look at this place…There's nothing on the shelves! There's cobwebs everywhere."

"I told you, Harley, this area of town has been abandoned for quite some time. Everything that was once in this store was either stolen or sold elsewhere. The cobwebs make it a bit creepy, but it's better than catching a cold in the rain." Reaching over to her, he wiped some of the wetness from her hair and kept his coat wrapped tightly around her body.

"Do you think it'll storm?" She didn't want to get spooked from thunder again.

"Nah. It'll clear up soon. Weather's awfully peculiar around this area. This happens all the time. I forgot that you don't like storms."

She hid her face behind her hands and blushed. "I've never liked them. Thunder just gives me chills. Whenever it stormed out, I'd grab Sammy and find someplace to hide. I guess I thought that it would all go away if I did that. I don't know."

"Where were your parents during all of that? Didn't they want to comfort you?"

"…"

"Harley?"

"….."

"Harley. It's time. You have to stop hiding it from me. You have to stop cowering in the shadows and pretending that you're still Dr. Quinzel. You're not my doctor anymore, Harley. You're my hostage and my companion. Dr. Quinzel may want to keep hiding everything from me, but Harley Quinn doesn't. You have to let go and let it all out."

"I…I…" Could she? Could she really finally tell him? The pain was beginning to ache through her heart, threatening to burst. She wanted to tell him, wanted to let the words tumble from her mouth, and yet she wanted to keep them to herself.

_Tell, don't tell, tell, don't tell…_

"Harley," he said, his voice strong and commanding, his golden-brown eyes soft and gentle. "Tell me…"

She sucked in air, knowing that she couldn't keep it stored up inside her anymore. "My Mother couldn't stand me."

He blinked. "Is that all there is to say, Harley? Is that what you've been trying to hide from me about your past? Really?"

"No. She _really_ couldn't stand me. I was always in her way, a crutch to her. I never knew my father. He got my mother knocked up and then fled the scene. I've never even met him."

"No Daddy for Harley? How tragic!" His voice was half-teasing, half-indulgent. Regardless, she wanted to continue.

"As for Mother…she didn't want me. I was just a reminder of her mistake. She raised me just because I was her own flesh and blood. She didn't ever tuck me in at night or sing lullabies or play games. She just…existed there."

Painful memories surged through her like a bullet, making her shiver.

"_Mommy! I drew you a picture in art class today. Look!"_

"_Mommy, can we go see the ducks in the park today? Just for once?"_

"_Did you see the tricks I did in gymnastics today, Mommy? Did you like them? Mommy? Are you listening?"_

"_Are you done reading your papers, Mommy? No? Will you let me just sit here then? I'll be real quiet, I promise!"_

"_Those boys next door were being mean to me again. Why won't you talk to their parents?"_

"_Mommy? Mommy? Please talk to me! Don't go away…"_

"_What did I do? Why are you mad at me? Was I bad? Mommy, please tell me…"_

"Harley," he said, prodding her. "Go on. What else?"

She sniffled, trying to keep her voice straight. "I tried…I tried so hard to get her to see what I could do…I wanted to her be proud. But she was never proud. She'd sometimes leave in the middle of the night and go out drinking. I'd have to go to bed by myself with just Sammy for company."

"Your only company…was a stuffed rabbit?"

She hiccoughed. "I know I sound childish talking about him all the time as though he was real, but he really _was_ my closest friend when I was little. He filled…I dunno…a gap, a missing piece."

"_Mother, what was junior high like for you when you were a kid? Please tell me."_

"_Guess what, Mother? The Hutchinson twins invited me to a sleepover Saturday. Isn't that great? Mother?"_

"_Of course, I'm trying to pull up that grade in math, Mother. I'm really bad at math though. Please be patient with me…"_

"_Prom is coming up, Mother. Will you take a picture of me in my dress? You'll like it, really."_

"_How come you suddenly care about my future in gymnastic? You never cared about it before. And anyway, I've decided not to pursue it. I want to be a psychiatrist and go to study for a degree in psychology. Why are you yelling? It's what I want to do, Mother! When I was doing gymnastics, you wanted me to find a more serious career, and now you're telling me that I'm not good enough to be a doctor? Mother, __**what will please you?**__"_

_Mother…Mother…_

Mother. Shining like some beautiful, far-away star that she could never capture. Mother. A woman too depressed with her own life to see the sadness in her child's. Mother. Always out of reach and distant and stern and dissatisfied.

Tears streamed down Harleen's cheeks in a river. Her hair hung limply down her forehead and her chest heaved. So much pain…so much sadness…she'd laugh if it weren't so pathetic.

"What happened with your mother in the end? She still around fucking you up still?"

"N-no…she died w-when I was in c-c-college. Car ac-ac-accident. I didn't even k-know until days l-later." Yes, her mother was dead and gone, never giving Harleen a pitiful chance to hope that perhaps they could put their differences aside. All that was left was the sting of eternal rejection; the hours wasted dreaming foolishly that her mother would one day hear her cries from the shadows. It was all lost.

She couldn't take it anymore. She sobbed loud and hard, howling for the loss of her mother, for the loss of her childhood, for her father's abandonment.

"Shh, Harley. Shh…"

But she kept screaming, clawing at herself in agony, trying to reach out to things that weren't there. The world was spinning before her eyes. The tormentors of the past hovered over her, mocking her with their twisted, ugly grins. She was the fool, the forsaken marionette in the darkness. They were all laughing at her.

"Shh, my sweet. Shh, my pretty. Hush now, I'm here. Mr. J is here. Hush…" His arms swept around her and he pulled her close, pressing her head into his chest. She closed her eyes and clung to him, sobbing into his shirt as he cooed and stroked her frenzied hair.

"No-no one wa-wanted me…"

"That's not true. It isn't your fault. Your mother was a bitch and she deserved to die for hurting you so much. Your dad, wherever he is, deserves to die too. Anyone who would reject and desert you is an idiot, a complete moron."

She only cried harder. Here she was clinging onto a killer in clown-paint, sobbing in his arms like a baby. She didn't understand why she was so important to him. She was nobody. She was just a hapless shrink that was born into the world by accident. All her life, she had strived to be something she wasn't, just to please others. She was a joke.

"Damnit, Harley, stop sniveling and listen to me. The past is done. Finished. Gone. You can't change what's happened. Leave it all behind. That was Harleen Quinzel's life. You _real_ life is now. Your mother is dead and rotting in the ground. Let it go, my little harlequin. You're worth more than ten of her. She distanced herself from you because she knew that you were better than her in every way. And Daddy? He's a fucking waste of life if he didn't see what a gift you'd be to his life."

She blinked up at him, her eyes blurry and her cheeks tear-streaked. "Why? Why do you say such things?"

"You're not alone in the dark, Harley. I'm right there in it beside you. We've led similar lives. We've wandered on all kinds of painful roads. We're both desperate, wild animals that have been caged all our lives. But I'm here with you. You're my sweet little harlequin, my favorite hostage, my dearest pet."

He leaned forward kissed her forehead gently, making her crumble in shock. "Your Daddy-J is proud of you."

For such a small kiss, she'd never have thought it could affect her so much. It was the kind of kiss that wasn't meant to be sexy or sensual. It was just…_tender_, a kiss that she had never experienced before. And it was only on her forehead. He didn't look like a killer in face-paint anymore. He just looked like a man. A dear, sweet, caring man that wanted the best for her. It was enough to give her strength, to stop her tears and dry her eyes.

"Done crying? No more tears?"

"Yes. I'm done."

"Good. We should start heading back then." He brought his scarred lips to her forehead again and pressed them there softly and soothingly.

Outside, the rain was beginning to clear up.


	20. Feelings Within

**Day Eleven**

"Look at how she gazes at him," Poke was saying to Cutter. "So much trust! So much concern and affection!" He looked at his feet and absentmindedly played with one of the shoelaces. "She's into him."

"Oh, we don't know. But she _was_ clutching his arm very tightly when they came back from their stroll yesterday. Did you see it? Her eyes were red…as if she had been crying."

"If I know the boss, he was prodding at the poor thing again. Digging around that lovely, soft brain of hers. I don't blame him. _I'd_ like to know what's up with her. You can tell just by looking into her eyes that the chick has been fucked up by something in the past."

"Don't you go prodding at her like the boss is. She doesn't need you messing her up more than she already is."

Poke chuckled and leaned against the older man companionably. "Oh, dear old Cutter…methinks you really have a soft spot for the girl. Maybe we all kind of do, though I wouldn't mind twisting her up to see how she'd respond. But I think that _you're_ the fondest of her out of me and the cousins. Too bad you're too old for her." He snickered loudly.

Cutter smiled and gave the scrawny fellow a playful cuff. "It isn't like that, you pervert. Yes, I've grown rather fond of her. But not in that way. Of course, you wouldn't be able to tell the difference. You've never had someone of importance in your life."

"Oh yes I have. And her name is ole lucky-spark." He held up his pocket lighter, grinning sickly.

"Whatever. Just don't go snooping at Harley and the boss too much. You don't want to end up like poor Len did."

"Hey, Cutter," Poke called as the older man began to walk away. "Do you really think there's something going on? I mean, the boss actually seems to enjoy her company. That's really rare."

"The boss's feelings are not for us to interpret. It's not our place to try to find out."

"The way she looks at him…oh, man, you can see something beginning to form in those sweet blue eyes of hers. It's getting me excited."

"We don't really know, Poke. It is best to let things happen as they come. Only time will tell."

XxX

Harleen leaned over the edge of the roof and stared down at the empty streets below. Though they had looked dreary and unwelcoming when she had first arrived here, they now brought feelings of comfort and security. This place really had become home to her.

"Don't lean too far, my girl." Mr. J cooed. "We wouldn't want you to fall and have you break your skull, now would we?"

"No," she said with a small laugh. "That would be bad." She leaned back and walked over to his side, smiling brightly up at him.

His wild brownish-green hair blew in the breeze and his face without the paint looked utterly radiant in the sunlight. She found herself really becoming more and more in awe with his appearance as days past. He didn't have the typical, boring face that every other male had. His eyes drew her in so much. They were such lovely golden-brown eyes that expressed his emotions vividly, whether it be anger or disappointment or amusement or concern. She liked the shape of his face-strong and broad. Even his scars didn't bother her anymore. At times, she found herself envying the way they brought him a powerful, mysterious air.

"Are you awake?" he asked, noticing her wide, unblinking stare.

"Sorry. I spaced out for a moment. Silly me."

"Indeed you are," he said with a quiet purr. "Silly, funny, little Harley-girl." He swept her in his arms and waltzed her around a bit, oblivious to her squeals of both protest and delight. Much as she didn't want to, she pulled away from him and sat down.

"I wonder why Gotham can't try to be a bit friendlier. Just looking at the main city over there, it just looks so uninviting and grim. I can't believe I used to work around there."

"Gotham won't change, my sweet. Not as long as things are the way they are. That's why _I'm_ here. I'm just trying to pass along the message…"

"They're stupid for not listening to what you have to tell them," she said with an angry pout. "You try to show them that they're living in this big joke and all they do is send the stupid Batman on you and lock you away."

"No, they don't send the Batman on me. Batsy finds me all by himself."

"Whatever. But you know what, Mr. J? I disagreed with some of the things you had to say in the past, but now I'm beginning to see how right you are about some things. People _are_ horrible. They don't really care about you at all. They either force themselves to put up with you or they reject you all together."

"Like your Mother and Father."

"Yes, like my…" she swallowed, still too saddened to want to talk about it. After what she had told him yesterday, it was really beginning to bring her down.

He saw her gloomy expression and put an arm around her shoulder. "Smile, my pet. They are the real fools, not you. Be glad that they are no longer in your life."

"…But I can't. They…"

"Say it," he said in a suddenly gruff, commanding voice.

"Say what?"

"Say that you're glad they're not in your life anymore."

She stared up at him and trembled. "Mr. J…I just…can't."

"Sure you can. It's part of the process of letting the past go. You can do it. Say it."

"But-"

"Say it."

"But I-"

"Say it, Harley."

"I can't!"

He smacked her across the face and made her fall on her rump. She cried out from the sting but he didn't relent, leaning over her and goading on.

"Say. It."

"Alright, alright! I'm glad."

"You're glad _what_?"

"I'm glad that they're not in my life anymore."

"And you're glad your mother is dead."

"Mr. J…"

"Say it, Harl."

"I'm glad my mother is dead," she said tonelessly, feeling her heart loosen somehow.

Mr. J pulled her back to her feet cradled her head in his hands. "That's right. Doesn't that feel better? Your dad was an abandoning asshole, Harley, and your mother was a bitch. You don't need them sucking on you like parasites anymore. You don't need to dwell on the past anymore. _I'm_ proud of you, Harley." He licked his lips and crooned at her, making her turn red.

_Someone's proud of me…it's been so long since I've heard that…oh, God! It feels so good to hear that…_

"You know," she said, almost slurring. "For someone who wears his past through the scars on his face, you certainly know just what to say."

"These scars might bring fear to most Gothamites, but they are who I am, Harley. Sometimes scars are a good thing. They are there to remind us of the past and of the mistakes we made. But instead of hiding them, we should instead embrace them as who we are and try to get past them."

"That's really poetic."

"Good. It means I'm getting somewhere with you," he grinned wolfishly. "Never try to conceal your scars, Harley. They will teach you things about life and all its random unfairness."

She loved hearing him talk. She loved the way he used his deft, graceful hands to express what he was saying. Had he never been a criminal, he would have been a great public speaker or politician.

_Ugh. I've got to stop gushing all over him. You'd think I have a crush on him or something._

She blinked and her blood turned cold.

Wait. She hadn't thought of that. She…with a crush…on him? No, that was preposterous. Absurd.

_He's the __Joker__. He's a wanted criminal that kidnapped me. So what if we're friends and I like how he talks and I shared a lot of personal stuff with him. I don't have feelings like that for him…none! This is stupid. Totally. No really, totally bogus._

But the more she thought about it, the more she doubted herself. These past few days, she had gotten a little _too_ friendly with him. She was only happy whenever she was with him and she was obsessed with trying to figure him out. What was all that?

_Okay. Okay. Calm down, Harleen. Chill. Mellow. It's probably just the slight case of Stockholm Syndrome, like the textbooks say. Yeah. That's all. Really._

She looked over at him as he stared out into the distance, his hair tousled back with roguish, wild beauty. He was licking his scars again. His tongue running over his lips and the sides of his mouth…agonizingly slow.

Her face turned a deep crimson red and she gasped, looking away.

_I'm horrible. Utterly horrible. _

She wanted to curl up and shrivel away. She was disgusted with herself in how oblivious she had been with her emotions. And the more she tried to rationalize and convince herself, the more she realized at just how obsessed with him she really was.

_Obsessed. But not in love. Yeah. That's it. That's all. _

She could dig that. She had gotten herself scared for a moment there, like she had lost her mind or something. She was alright now.

"You look ill, Harley."

She hiccupped. "I'm okay."

"If you're going to be sick, kindly remember to do it on the side of the roof and not directly on it."

"I'm okay. Really. I just got…sun in my face for a second. I'm alright."

"Well, if the sun is bothering you too much, let's go back inside. I was getting bored anyway."

"Alright. Let's go."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

XxX

"Okay, here's one. Why did the little boy drop his ice cream cone?" Poke asked, twitching gleefully.

"Why?" they all said in unison.

Poke ducked his head and crowed with laughter. "Because he got _hit by a bus_!"

Only Mr. J got a good laugh. Cutter and the cousins chuckled uneasily. Harleen just stared.

"That's a horrible joke," she said. "That wasn't funny. That was cruel. Poor kid."

"Oh, don't be such a spoil-sport, Harley," Mr. J said. "That's the whole point of the joke. It's funny because it's not funny. Lighten up."

Poke nudged at her. "What did the little girl with no arms or legs get for Christmas?"

She sighed. "What"

"Cancer."

She gasped and he grinned impishly, looking both devious and innocent at the same time.

It was enough to make her smile a bit. "You're terrible. You really are."

"Still better than the lame anteater joke you told the boss weeks back." And they all laughed.

Harleen wrapped her arms around Cutter's torso, smiling mischievously

"We haven't heard a joke from you yet, Cutter."

"No, no. Jokes are not my thing. I'm a listener, not a teller."

"And a damned good listener at that" said Mr. J. "When hiding-days are over, I'm going to want you at my side out on the Gotham battlefield again. Anyway, I've gotta go take a leak, boys. Mind Harley. Try not to enjoy her too much." Then he left.

"Henshaw, I'm feeling kind of beat. I'm gonna hit the hay."

"Yeah. Okay. I'll go with you, Roc. I was feeling tired, too."

"You two are leaving already? The night is young."

Rocco smiled. "Maybe for you, Cutter, but I'm calling it a night. Later."

"Alright. Get outta here, fellas. Sleep tight."

"Don't let the blood-sucking fleas in your mattress bite," Poke called out as the cousins departed. "Make sure not to move around too much, they tend to suck more out of you if you disturb them. You also might want to go find a doctor. I hear that they carry all kinds of deadly diseases that-"

"Hush," both Harleen and Cutter told him at the same time.

"Harley," Cutter said at length. "You look tired. Maybe you should go to bed too."

"I'm okay. I'm not all that tired, really."

"Good," Poke said, his eyes glittering. "Because the big bad boogeyman comes to claim your life while you're asleep. He sucks out your insides and uses your left-over skin as a napkin when he's done. Mm-mm. Yummy."

"You're awfully wicked today," Cutter remarked. "More than usual. Been inhaling too much fire-smoke, perhaps?"

"Hey, I'm just having fun. Harley's face got so cute all scared like that just now. Don't tell me you really still believe in the boogeyman, Harley?"

She laughed and blushed. "No. I _know_ he's not real. But growing up, I guess I never did anything to stop myself from fearing. Mother wouldn't ever check under the bed or in the closet."

_Mother…_

She got sad again.

Cutter lifted her chin. "No need to look so down. It's okay."

She smiled at him coyly, feeling a bit better. "Cutter, you really are wonderful."

Poke yawned and stretched. "Wanna know what else is wonderful? Besides blood and fires, I mean. _The boss_. The boss is fucking brilliant. Just today, I asked him what would happen if we were ever surrounded by the entire police force, no place to go. And do you know what he said? He just shrugged and said 'we'd just charge at them and keep firing our guns'. That's brilliant. I've always loved the direct approach. The man is dead set on not letting anyone get the better of him even if it means dying in the process. That's golden."

"Yes," Harleen said softly. "He really amazes me…"

Cutter and Poke stared intently at the expression on her face and then at each other's.

Harleen blinked, perhaps in awareness. "But part of me still can't stand him. He's so unpredictable! How do you guys keep up with him?"

They shrugged.

"But I guess that's another one of his good qualities," she said thoughtfully. "He's beyond everyone else."

"You…_like_ the boss, yes?" Cutter wheedled gently.

She nodded. "Yes. He's grown on me a bit, you could say. In spite of everything."

"You…_**like**_ him…?"

"I just told you I…wait…what are you trying to ask?" Her face was turning a flushed pink. "I…NO! What is this, junior high gossip?"

Poke and Cutter looked at each other and then back at Harley, who was stumbling back clumsily.

"I-I have to g-go to b-bed now…"

She fled the room, not looking back. Doubt had returned to her like a fever and sleep was the best way to escape from it.

Behind her, the two men stared out into space.

"What do you think that meant, Cutter?"

"I don't know…"

XxX

_Little Harleen, eight years old, is trembling as she approaches her mother's bedroom._

"_**Go for it,"**__ Sammy tells her, his button-eyes sparkling. __**"Don't be afraid. Maybe it'll go alright."**_

"_No," she whispers to him. "No it won't. I'm going to get into big trouble. Mommy is going to kill me."_

"_**You never know until you try. Just go tell her and get it over with."**_

_A thumb in her mouth, Harleen timidly enters the doorway, her knees trembling._

"_Mommy?"_

_A grunt. Mommy is busy reading._

"_I…uh…I got somethin' to tell you."_

_Another grunt._

"_Y-you know those boys next door? The ones that are always picking on me?"_

_Yet another grunt._

"_Well, I was trying to tag along with them to see if they'd let me play with them and then they told me that they'd play hide-and-go-seek with me if I proved myself to them…"_

_Silence. _

"_So they said that I'd have to hit this ball with a bat and make it go all the way over the big fence by their house. And, well, I did. But…er, then something bad kind of happened."_

_The silence is agonizing, accusing. She can't hold it in anymore and so she decides just to blurt it all out in one big gasp._

"_I'mreallysorrybuttheballhitMrs.'sSilverman'swindow!"_

_A shriek of anger. Then her mother whooping and charging over at her. Mother's face is purple with rage as she hovers over little Harleen and screams at her._

"_You __**Bad**__, horrible thing! You bad girl! Why must you constantly be such a nuisance?"_

_And little Harleen, sobbing and clinging to her mother's leg, begs for forgiveness and wishes she were dead._

XxX

She screamed herself awake again, shivering and shaking like she did the night before. This nightmare was worse than the other one.

"Mother," she moaned. "Oh, _Mother_…"

Mr. J's hand came swiftly and soothingly onto her head, smoothing back her hair as his eyes glowed in the dimness. He looked really drowsy, only half-awake.

"Bad dream again," she squeaked out to him. "So bad, so bad, so bad…"

"Shh. Sleep." He stroked her hair pacifyingly, brushing the back of his hand against her face to wipe her moistened cheeks. Very, very gently, he stroked her eyes shut and pushed her head closer into the pillow. And yet, she still whimpered.

Then he scooted closer to her and his mouth was only inches away from her ear. His breath was hot and tickled. He began to whisper a lullaby to her, keeping his voice low and hushed. It faded out into the darkness as he dozed off, a low snore escaping his mouth. She studied his face, letting her vision blur in and out of focus.

She didn't know what she felt for him. She didn't know whether to still be terrified of him or to sing his praises from the rooftops. Right now, trembling and almost asleep again she knew only one thing:

She wished this moment in the darkness would last forever.


	21. Sympathy for the Devil

**Day Twelve**

He stared down at her sleeping form, thinking, contemplating.

In ignorant slumber, her arm had snaked around his own, clinging to him as if he were no more than something soft and huggable like a teddy bear.

But he wasn't a teddy bear.

He was the Joker, the scarred, war-painted anarchist that reveled in chaos and mayhem.

In the beginning, he didn't know what he'd do exactly to Harleen Quinzel, or Harley as he called her. He had thought about keeping her long enough to reel in Batman and then quickly and mercifully shoot her. Then he had thought about maybe coaxing her into killing herself. But, in the end, those where the ideas of a schemer, and he was most decidedly not a schemer. It was better just to keep her here and see what would become of it.

He had never taken into account that he would become fond of her.

It was true, in the past week or so, he had found that _he_, the murderer of many, the agent of chaos, had actually developed some feelings for her. It made him sick. It made him want to puke. _Feelings_ were not something to be proud of. _Feelings_ were those warm, gooshy things inside of you that ate away at your strength until you were nothing but a neutered lapdog.

And yet, his feelings for Harley were there and going strong.

She was so _needy_! She'd taken to following him around like a puppy and here he was hours ago whispering lullabies into her ear. But that was one of the reasons why he enjoyed her. When she had started out weeks ago as his doctor in Arkham, she had been so determined, so eager to learn as much as she could in order to cure him. Now, all she wanted was his approval, his kindness and respect. After finally releasing the memories of her lost childhood, she wanted something to fill the gap, to make her finally smile again.

And he loved that about her. He loved her yearning to rediscover herself. It only made the idea that her true self was being suppressed all the more possible. And that was another thing he adored about her: her inner shadow. He had seen it a couple of times…that time when she had viciously lashed out on those three mugs on her third day here, her wild, uncontrolled voice the night she had gotten drunk, and the fierce energy she had shown when they had encountered Crane. Even though they were just bits and pieces, he'd shake with excitement whenever he got to see even the tiniest scrap of it. No doubt about it, somewhere in those gentle baby-blue eyes lurked the wild, untamed presence of Harley Quinn. He could only try to hold onto his anticipation for the day when he would bring her completely out. Harley would finally be free at last.

Next to him, one of Harley's eyes opened just a fraction of an inch. It stared sleepily at him in the darkness, making him lose himself briefly as he stared into those endless blue depths. Then it closed back down and she exhaled comfortably, snuggling deeper under the covers.

Yes, he'd admit it. He had become really fond of her. He wanted to hurt her, to punish her, to slice up her soft, peachy cheeks until she was just as scarred as he was, but he still couldn't let her go. She was not fully his yet, but he wanted her to be. He hungered for her body, relishing the day when she'd come to him and beg him to touch her. He wanted to keep her for his own, to take her under his wing and mold her into his equal. .Her.

And he hated himself for that!

Very gently, so as not to wake her, he shifted out of the bed and put on his coat. He couldn't stand being in here anymore. His head was hurting too much. He needed some time out. Cause some mischief, terrify a few folks, and perhaps find the Bat. He'd _love_ a good fight with Batman right now. It would give him a sense of power, a sense of purpose.

Slinking out the door, he turned and gave her one last look. God, she was so desperately beautiful while she slept; her hair silver in the moonlight, the outline of her figure so perfectly proportioned and molded. So tragically beautiful, so hatefully affecting. Almost like…

…_Jeanie…(?)_

What was that? A memory? Someone else's? His head was hurting more now than before. Licking his lips, he turned and closed the door behind him.

"Sleep tight, my pet."

XxX

"Where do you think he went, Cutter?"

"I don't know. I told you before; he just decides to go off alone sometimes. Sometimes for the sake of killing something, sometimes to make a private statement to Gotham, and sometimes just to have his space."

"I hope he'll be alright," she said fretfully. "The radio said that there's a cold front moving in. He could get sick out there."

"Oh, he'll be okay," Poke assured her, giggling. "The boss is a fucking _powerhouse_. No cold front is going to stop him. Hey, Harley, you wanna play a game of Russian Roulette?" He waggled a tiny pistol at her.

"Not while I'm here she does," Cutter said protectively. "Don't go playing that game, Poke. The boss shouldn't have to come back to see that there's one less person alive here. With Len gone, he needs all the helpers he can get."

Poke giggled again, apparently tickled at something. "Yes, that's what we are…Joker's little helpers!" He roared in laughter. The cousins rolled their eyes.

"Don't mind him," Cutter told her. "Poke has his good days and he has his bad days. Sometimes you can have a straight conversation with him, and sometimes he's too batshit crazy to come out of his own little world."

"I feel kind of bad for him. Schizophrenia can be treated with proper medication, you know."

"Sure. But Poke refuses all forms of medication. And anyway, that medication doesn't account for his pyromania, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and his manic-depressive disorder."

"Wow," she sighed. "Mr. J picked the most colorful peacock at Arkham for recruitment."

"You can see why he hired him," Cutter said, nodding.

"What about the cousins? What's their story?"

"Oh. Well a while back, they were in trouble with Maroni's gang. The gang threatened Henshaw and held him at gun point. Rocco freaked out and then the boss appeared. Asked Rocco if he wanted him to save his cousin. Rocco said yes, and Henshaw survived. The only price was that they now had to work for the boss. So, well, here they are."

"Huh. Is he always that inviting? It seems he's taken all of you under his wing."

Cutter shrugged. "We're just the lucky ones. There were more of us last winter. But they're either dead or gone now."

"A shame."

"Yes," he sighed. "It is."

"Anyone want a piece of toast?" asked Rocco, holding up a slice.

"I will," said Poke. "Only if there's jam on it. Strawberry jam. That's the ticket." He gobbled it up, getting it all over his face. "Want some, Harley?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No thanks. I'm going to wait for Mr. J." She went over to the door.

"He won't be back for a while, Harley, I told you."

"I know. But…I don't know, I just got a bad feeling about it. Maybe I'm being silly."

"Maybe you are. Come sit back down." And she obliged him, sitting next to him and fidgeting nervously.

"Calm down. Mellow. There's no need to start freaking out."

She laughed, rubbing her forehead. "You're right. I know. I'm pretty ridiculous, aren't I?"

Cutter patted her on the shoulder. "Maybe just a bit. But it's alright. We're all pretty ridiculous. Even the boss. But that's what makes us who we are."

"But here's the funny thing. I know all about each of you, but I know nothing about _him_. What's his story? I can't trust anything he says about his scars; he just changes the story each time. So just who was he really? Who was he before all of this?"

Poke crunched loudly on his toast and the cousins squirmed uncomfortably.

"We don't really know, Harley," Cutter said. "We don't ask questions. But as far as I can tell, he probably had it rougher than all of us. He keeps it hidden _very_ deeply inside of him. I've heard dozens of different scar stories, but never the real one. So whatever it is, I think he really just doesn't want to relive it through talking about it."

Her brow furrowed and she cocked her head in thought. Was Mr. J suffering from the effects of an abusive childhood? Was he a victim of bullying or an unjust circumstance? Had his family not cared for him as well? Or did he give himself the scars as a way to embrace the person he was inside?

"Here's what I think," Poke said. "The boss had a little shaving accident years ago. But instead of whining about it like boring _other people_ do, he decided to go on a fucking brilliant crusade with it. He's that incredible."

"Oh, hush and eat your toast. Truth is, Harley, no one really knows. No one in all of Gotham. Don't go asking him. Something tells me that he'd kill you after he told you the truth."

_Yeah. That's right. He could still kill me. I forgot. _It had been a while since the idea that he'd end her life been brought up. After staying here with him for so long, it was only less than a minor trifle in her mind.

_I've changed. I really have_.

And she laughed.

XxX

Ten o'clock. How had she managed to survive a whole day with him being absent? The hours had lingered so slowly and so painfully that she had felt sick. This wasn't mildly troubling now, this was full-scale _upsetting_.

She paced back and forth like a restless cheetah at the zoo, her eyes darkened and full of worry.

_Where is he? Did he abandon us here? Did he get captured? Damnit! Where did he go?_

She bit her lip and clenched her fist.

_I hate him! I hate him for going away like this! He could be hurt or killed or…damnit! _

Poke and the cousins had gone out to search for him. Only an uneasy Cutter remained with her as she paced around the room.

"Where could he be, Cutter? Why haven't they found him yet?"

"Harley, calm down."

She whirled towards the door, glaring at it, almost accusing it. "He couldn't have gotten captured. He's the Joker! He's managed to evade the police all this time. Why should today be any different from the days before?" In frustration, she rammed her clenched fist into the wall, not caring how much it hurt. The agitation she felt was worse than the pain.

"Harley-"

And she whirled around and faced him, her eyes blazing like twin blue orbs, animalistic and frenzied. "We HAVE to find him, Cutter! We HAVE to! What will happen if he's not here? The Batman…he's out there. He'd kill Mr. J if he found him! I know he would!"

But Cutter said nothing and she trembled, both in panic and frustration.

"CUTTER, WHAT DO WE DOOOO?"

"You shut up," said Poke as he stepped through the doorway. "We found him."

She gasped and ran forward, almost knocking Cutter down in the process. Mr. J's war-paint was smeared and he was shaking. His breath was ragged, almost completely exhausted.

"What's wrong with him?"

"A fever, I think. Never thought you'd be right, Harley. You should've thought about that cold front before you went out, boss. You need rest."

Mr. J growled and shoved Poke and the cousins away from him, hobbling drunkenly towards the bedroom. "Shut the hell up, all of you. I don't know why you idiots had to go and freak out. I was only a few fucking blocks away when you found me." He stumbled and coughed, loud and raspy.

Harleen followed him, but slowly and timidly. He was sick, but he was in a foul mood. She'd have to watch herself.

"Harley," Cutter began. "Maybe you should…"

"No, let her come if she wants to. I don't care. Come along, Harley." He stumbled again and she reached out at him.

"Mr. J, you're very ill. You should go to bed."

"Well, aren't you so concerned?" there was a snarl in his voice, laced with venom. "So sweet." He let her drag him towards the bedroom and he collapsed onto the bed.

She felt his forehead and bit her lip. "You're pretty warm. What will I do if you get sick? You've been fretting over my fevers this whole time, yet I don't know what to do with yours." She felt useless, utterly useless. What kind of a doctor was she?

_Well, not one that cures fevers. Oh, Harley, you bad, meaningless, useless, horrible thing!_

Then he leaned forward, close enough to where their noses touched. "You do want me, don't you, Harley? Just a little? I can tell."

"Mr. J, you're really sick. I think you're delirious."

"I'm not sick, I feel great. I could chase the stars right now if I wanted to." He grinned at her, but she could see that he was getting worse. Dashing over towards the bathroom, she got a washcloth and cleaned his sweating, paint-smeared face, trying to do it as lightly as possible so as not to irk him.

"Maybe I can get the boys to find you some aspirin. Would aspirin work? Or Tylenol? I was never good at this. I know about medication for mental disorders, but not for sickness…"

"Stop whining," he growled, suddenly on his feet. "You do that so much don't you? So needy, so clingy. You're mother really did a fine job with you, Harley. She turned you into an insecure, childish brat."

She shook, tears in her eyes from his words. "Oh please, don't say that to me. Please lay back down. I'm sorry for being so inadequate. I _want_ to help you. Oh, Mr. J, I'm so _sorry_!"

She fell to her knees at the bedside, her head bowed in shame. She hated herself, despised herself so much. She hated her mother more than anything though. She finally realized it now. Mr. J was right, it was _her fault_. Harleen was glad she was dead.

_Yeah…I'm glad she's in the putrid, stinking earth where she belongs. Good riddance. It's what she deserves for making me like this…_

And a wave of remorse swept through her and she wailed, knowing that she hadn't meant it.

Suddenly, Mr. J's warm hand was on her head, stroking and patting soothingly. "Don't cry, Jeannie. I'll get us out of the situation. When Junior's born, we'll be living like kings. I promise. Don't cry…"

She blinked at him, her eyes glazed over with confusion.

_Jeannie? Who's that? Someone he knew once? Someone from his past?_

"Mr. J? What did you mean by that? It's me. It's Harley. Remember?"

"I said Harley. Didn't I?"

"You called me Jeannie. Mr. J? You alright?"

She clung to his arm, desperate to find out what he had meant. Just who was this Jeannie person? What role had she played in his life? Did she even exist at all? Harleen was pretty positive that there weren't any other women in his life. Everyone in Gotham was too afraid of him. Heck, the only reason why _she_ was here was because he'd kidnapped here. So if that was the case, who was this woman he had mentioned?

He shook off her grasp, suddenly enraged. "Stop pawing at me! You're not my mother! Don't paw at me!"

"It's just that, you're really sick…"

"Just go away and let me go to bed for crying out loud! Go on. Leave me. Why'd you even come in here anyway? Idiot."

She stood over him, her eyes welled with tears. Yet they did not fall. Instead, her eyes turned hard and firm. Her fists were clenched tightly, this time in determination.

"Now you listen to me. I'm not going away. I'm going to make sure that you get better. I'm not going to listen to you."

"Oh? Not even if I kill you."

"I don't care. You lie down right now and get some rest. That's an _order_."

"Since when do you give me orders?" he asked drowsily, resting his head on the pillow. "I'm the big bad kidnapper. You're the one who has to do what I say."

"Well not this time. _I'm_ in charge for once. Lay down. That's it. Like that. Now go to sleep. I'm going to go check with the boys for some medicine. I don't know much about antibiotics, but I'll try to work something out. And if they can't find any, I'll damned well send them out in the cold to search for some."

"Harley, Harley, Harley," he crooned. "So strong all of the sudden. I don't know whether to love it or hate it. You truly are one-of-a-kind, my pet. My silly, funny little pet…"

He drifted off and shook as he slept, prompting her to make a run back into the living room for the boys.

"How is he?"

"Fever. Cutter, we need medicine for him. Anything you can get. Can you get some for me?"

"Yes. I'll get Poke and the cousins. We'll raid the nearest drugstore if we have to."

"I should come with you. I should see…"

"No. You stay here with him in case he needs you. Besides, we can't have you trying to escape, can we?"

"Cutter, are you serious? You don't really believe-"

"I don't. It was a joke. You just need to loosen up a bit. He'll be okay. I promise you."

"I hope so," she said softly. "I really hope so…"

XxX

"_You can't join up with them, Jack. They're bad men, the lot of them. What if they get you killed?"_

"_Then they get me killed. And the money would go to you and the baby when it's born."_

Memories.

"_You're just the fellow we need. Your legs look like they're strong enough for this job. Just run fast as you can with the dough and there you go. Then you and that sweet pussy wife of yours are free to live wherever you like. You'll be rich, my man. All you have to do is…_

_Memories flooding over him. They came like waves, drowning him, washing over him until he felt he would die._

"_Jeannie! Oh God, Jeannie! What did they do to you? You killed my wife, you bastards!"_

"_That's what you get for not following through. Too bad about the kid inside her. Just consider it a little bonus then."_

"_YOU BASTARDS! I'LL KILL YOU!"_

_A man, a desperate, troubled man with wild hair, running blindly at a whole group of thugs. They carried knives…knives that were as beautiful and shining as the moon. Knives that slice the man's face so smoothly and neatly._

"_Aghhhh! OH GOD! Aghhhhhhhhhh!"_

_And laughing. Men laughing and pointing. A chorus of loud, raucous giggles that rip through the night like a gust of wind. Then rage. Nothing but crimson red haze and gushes of blood. In his mouth, the man can taste it. It is a new taste, an unfamiliar one, but he enjoys it. When he blinks, every last one of the laughers is dead at his feet. Then he starts laughing, getting the joke at last, finally pushing free of his weakling cocoon. And the beautiful, silver moon glows down on him with a radiant light, basking him with silver baptismal fire. And he laughs again._

He tossed through these dreams, not even sure if they were real. If they were, he didn't want any part of them. They meant nothing to him anymore. They were just scraps and bits of pathetic wastes that served no purpose in his head. And yet, why did he feel so miserable? Why did he feel his eyes moist and slick with tears? Surely he wasn't crying? How pitiful. How unlike him. He felt he would scream.

Then a hand, a gentle, soothing hand was cradling his head and drying his face.

"Poor, poor thing," a sweet, high-pitched little voice was saying. "Poor, poor Mr. J. Stop shaking…please…"

Harley. His pet, his little harlequin. He could recognize that timorous, ardent voice anywhere. Was the little girl-woman looking after him then? It was his job to look after her. It seemed the little minx had actually managed to nurse him a bit. He could feel a towel on his head and the inside of his mouth tasted bitter from medication. Looks like she was playing doctor after all. How delightfully cheesy. He wanted to strangle her and kiss her at the same time.

He squinted. Could he make out her face? It would really make him feel better if he could see that round, childish-looking face of hers gazing at him. It would give him something to laugh about. But instead, her face looked surprisingly collected and in-control. And yet, there was something very emotional to it. It was a mixture of so many different emotions all at once, like some exotic piece of artwork. Was it Harleen Quinzel staring down at him or was it Harley Quinn? His head hurt too much to care.

He felt her lay down next to him, apparently finally at enough ease to want to get some sleep. Then the click of a light being turned off. Then a hand, a trembling, timid little hand snaking shyly around his arm, just like the night before. He couldn't help but grin a little at that. The poor dear probably wanted him terribly, but didn't fully realize it. Her physical actions were beginning to demonstrate it all too well. But she still kept her distance from him, giving him his space in the bed while he wrestled with the fever. But all the while, she clung onto his arm like a drowning woman, not daring to let go. It was a very sweet expression, really.

Closing his eyes once more, he welcomed the cool blackness of deep slumber, away from memories, away from the streets he had aimlessly wandered up and down all day, and away from the fever that would hang around him until late morning the next day.

But not, strangely enough, away from that warm, tender grasp, wrapped around his arm nor those bright blue eyes that would watch him in the darkness for a very long time.


	22. Bound Together

**Day Thirteen**

"Look what I have for you," Mr. J said, holding up a pair of beautiful silver roller skates. "I found them last night in an old cubby hole in one of the abandoned schools. They look small, but they should fit you pretty well."

He handed them to her slowly and delicately, still clearly recovering from his fever from last night. She took them and inhaled sharply, dazzled by their texture and good condition. Very carefully, she put them on and attempted to move just a bit. But she exerted too much force and ended up on her rump on the floor.

She laughed up at him, half-embarrassed and half-gleeful from his grin. "I've never really been all that good at this. I've always fallen down." She picked herself back up and managed to move a few more inches, balancing on the wall for support.

"Harley, you're so great at gymnastics, but _this_ physical task is hard for you?"

"Yeah. Life's funny like that." She inched just a bit more, then sat back down on the bed and took them off. "I'll have to start practicing." She handed them back to him.

"You can keep them. I figured they wouldn't do you much good. I just wanted to see you try it out."

She smiled brightly at him. "Thanks. I'm sorry that my sense of balance is off. I can do all kinds of stuff on balance-beams and I'm great with keeping my balance with flips and cartwheels, but I'm just not good at roller-skating."

"Don't be sorry. We all have our shortcomings." He reached out and ruffled her hair, almost knocking her down with the weight of his strong, heavy hand. "Don't dwell on it too much."

She beamed at him. He always knew exactly what to say to make her feel better. She didn't care anymore about how childish she was acting; she was glad that it allowed her to get such nice attention from him.

"I have a _very_ special surprise for you tonight."

"Yeah? Like someone else you're going to try to force me to kill?"

He laughed. "No. Something better. A nice little something for my sweet Harley-girl who's been _so_ good this week." The affectionate purr that she loved so much was back in his voice.

"You really don't have to be giving me things…"

He wrapped his arms around her and cradled her in his arms. "Oh, yes I do. Don't be so bashful."

"But…but I don't really deserve anything," she squeaked, burying her head into his chest. "Really, I don't."

"Yes you do," he said bringing his lips back to her forehead and making her quiver with delight. "You deserve everything, Harley. You've had everything kept away from you for so long, why not finally start getting what you want? Don't tell me you don't deserve it. You've always deserved it. Always."

She squealed and hugged him. "You're so nice. You always know how to make me feel better. How do you do it?"

"It's an art, my pet. It really does hurt being this suave and charming!" He grinned and made a mock-heroic pose, making her insides hurt as she screamed laughter.

_Something…I just figured out something…but what? _

Something had hit her, scratched the surface of her awareness. It lingered for a bit on her mind, making her heart beat rapidly. And then it faded away, allowing her to ponder in confusion what it meant. It was something she couldn't quite figure out, something just on the tip of her tongue. Something about Mr. J…

Oh well. She'd have to figure it out later.

XxX

Just the cousins went out with Mr. J today. Poke and Cutter were both assigned as Harley's watchers. The reason was unknown, except the Mr. J told them that the job he was about to preform only required three people.

So Poke stayed with them, babbling his loony, messed-up logic. But Harley didn't mind. She liked Poke even though he wasn't entirely right in the head. Sure, he still creeped her out a bit, but there was a certain roguish charm to him once you ignored the pyromania, bloodlust, and nutty ramblings.

"So, Cutter," Harley said in a teasing, faked-innocent voice. "Do you know what Mr. J's big surprise will be?"

"To tell you the truth, I haven't the faintest idea. But don't worry, it won't be anything bad. He's doing it special for you. Maybe he's thanking you in his own way for looking after him yesterday."

"I'm glad to see that he's alright," she said with a nod. "He was running up a nasty temperature. Thanks for having the boys go out to get some medication."

"It wasn't easy," Poke said. "It was damned cold out there last night! The wind kept blowing out my lighter!"

"Poke, do _you_ know what the surprise is?"

Poke's eyes glimmered. "I do. But the boss told me not to tell you. But it's going to be GLORIOUS. A real bang."

Cutter looked at Poke worriedly and Poke winked. "Don't look so vexed, old chum. It's not that kind of bang."

Cutter breathed in relief and turned to Harley. "The boss has really grown fond of you, I think. I've never seen him put so much time and effort into a surprise for someone that didn't involve violence. You probably mean a great deal to him."

She blushed and cocked her head thoughtfully. "I don't really know. His emotions are always all over the place, so it is hard to tell."

Cutter's eyes stared into hers; a serious expression on his face. "What does he mean to you?"

She brought her thumb to her mouth and bit it, trying to piece together her feelings. Somehow, it had something to do with that little fleeting moment of unknown realization that she had this morning. But she didn't know what it meant.

"I…I care about him a great deal. I know he's the one who terrorized Gotham and killed a lot of people and kidnapped me, but I can't help it. He's made me learn so much about myself that I didn't know. He's been trying to make me see the good things that life has to offer and he can be incredibly kind-hearted when he's not in a bad mood. I _hate_ it when he goes away. I feel like an arrow rips through my chest whenever he goes. I wish he could just stay here where it's safe and where we could talk and be together."

"He can't always stay. He's not a caged bird. He wants his freedom to roam Gotham and spread his message."

"I know. And I can understand that. The people of Gotham _need_ to listen to what he has to say. Mr. J is right about them…they're nothing but a bunch of conforming, mindless idiots and jerks wearing masks! Mr. J needs his time to go and try to make them aware of how pointless their actions are…I just wish I was with him."

"No you don't," Cutter said. "It is too dangerous for a delicate thing like you. Once you get out there, hiding in the shadows and constantly dodging bullets and explosions, it does something to you. It makes you harder, colder. A nice girl like you shouldn't have to experience that."

"But I WANT to experience that, Cutter! I've figured it out about myself: all my life I've been trying to be something that I'm not. I've been no better than all the other people in Gotham! But Mr. J…he taught me so many things. He's made me stronger somehow. If I could, I'd follow him onto the streets and shadows and never look back."

Poke and Cutter looked at each other, marveling at the way her blue eyes seemed to grow brighter and fiercer. She had changed so much these past thirteen days. Yes, she was stronger, but she was weaker too. It confused them, puzzled them. She looked so…different. That lost-little-girl look in her eyes was even more visible now than ever before, yet there was something very passionate and strong about them. Whenever the boss was brought up, her features would light up and her cheeks would turn a bright shade of pink. Yes, she had certainly changed.

Poke tossed an apple at her. "Here. Have a snack. It'll be a while before the boss is back. Hopefully, though, you won't flip out on us again."

She took a bite and winced a bit. "Sorry about how frantic I was yesterday. I just got worried. Sometimes, I tend to fly off the handle."

"It's all forgiven, Harley. You just owe me about a year's worth of lighters and chainsaws. And steak. I like steak." He grinned playfully.

"Does anything you say ever make any sense?"

"Only every-now-and-then. I find that it's better to cope when no one is arguing with you because they understood what you meant. Cutter, remember that time when we were held up by those gang-members that one night?"

Cutter smiled and nodded. "Oh yes."

"What happened?"

"Well, me an' Cutter were trying to bide our time before the boss got there to save our necks, so I began to just ramble on to them endlessly. I spoke in rhyme, I screamed out random words, I shouted dictionary definitions, and I did a whole run-down of old movie sound-effects. It kept them too amused to do anything to us."

"Basically," Cutter said. "Poke's nonsensical prattle is what saved us in the end. It _was_ pretty uncomfortable, Poke."

"One of my greatest moments. My only regret was that I wasn't the one to kill them in the end."

"So…Mr. J killed them then?"

"Yup. If you're useful to the boss, he will fight for you and kill anyone who tries to kill you. You must have seen him during that incident with Crane he told me about."

She closed her eyes and remembered. Mr. J had snarled at them, killed several of Crane's henchmen all because of her. He had been so…worried about her. Her heart fluttered a little.

"Yes," she said. "I think I understand what you mean."

And she _did_ understand. It only made her feel even more for Mr. J than ever. Something was beginning to shift within her, making her feel giddy on the inside. After caring for him last night, wiping his feverish forehead with a washcloth while he had moaned in delirium about the possibly-real Jeannie, she had discovered that she and Mr. J really _were_ to of a kind.

It seemed strange, but she almost felt that being kidnapped was the most significant thing that had ever happened to her. It had brought her to him, had allowed him to lead her out of the shadowlands of her insecurity and hiding. After last night, she had seen that he was just as an emotional wreck as she was. And while she didn't know that much about his past, she knew that somehow, they had truly led similar lives. Fate had knocked them both out of place in the world, turning them into misunderstood beings that just wanted to find their purpose.

But while Mr. J had found his purpose, she still had not. But she could feel it creeping up on her, little by little. She didn't know what it was, but she was sure that Mr. J would be the one to help her discover it. Whenever she was with him, she felt lighter, more accepted and acknowledged. He had become something majestic and unreal for her; a powerful, beautiful man that could rule this city like a king if they'd let him. He dazzled her, made her head spin, and made her want to live to see tomorrow.

…But what did it all mean?

XxX

Hours had passed since he'd gotten back. She had reclined on the bed and tried to focus on reading a book while he wandered in and out of the bedroom, waiting for something.

Around nine o'clock, he sat next to her and nuzzled her hair. "You're so cute when you're reading, Harley. You look so _into it_…like you're trying to become part of the story."

She blushed and gently pushed him off of her, regardless of how good it felt. "Well…I like to put myself in things. It allows me to…to…"

"…To be anywhere else but where you are now? Did you do that a lot in the past, Harley? Just opened a book and tried to leave the world around you behind?"

"Yes…but I'm not trying to leave it right now. I like it here."

"Because I'm here."

"Yes…"

He brought her face up to his. She half-shut her eyes, almost anticipating him kissing her. But his lips did not meet hers and simply brushed against each eyelid, closing them shut. He rocked her in his arms and crooned gentle babble while she rested her head against his arm and allowed herself to be soothed. She _loved_ it when he was so indulgent like this.

"Such pretty hair," he sighed, playing with it. "How many times do I have to tell you that you were born to be blonde, Harley? It would look so much prettier."

"Yes. Maybe you're right. I might consider it…"

"And those eyes…nothing else like them. You're lucky to have such pretty eyes, Harl. The perfect shade of blue. Most girls would _kill_ to have eyes like that."

She cooed and let herself soar with delight from his praises. It felt so good to be praised, to be paid attention to. She could feel herself melting.

…_Wait a minute…wait! This…this is wrong! What am I doing? _

Her eyes snapped open and she shifted away from him, ashamed that she was letting herself be cradled by Gotham's deadliest criminal.

_Why do I keep letting him do this? Why do I keep gushing over him? Is all this niceness an act he's putting on? Does he mean it? What is going on with me?_

Mr. J watched her inner conflict and smiled slyly, amused with her serious expression. "Are you ready for your surprise?"

She blinked and looked up. "Huh? It's time?"

"That's right. Are you ready?" He held his hand out to her and she took it, still trying to put the pieces in her mind together about her behavior.

"I'm ready."

"Then let's go. Follow me."

And like so many times before, he led her out the doorway and up towards the roof, their special place. The others were there, but unlike the last ''surprise'' she had, they all looked happy and at ease. She smiled and marveled at how brightly the stars seemed to be shining tonight, twinkling into the heavens gold and silver light.

"Now watch the magic begin," Mr. J said as he went over towards the box resting on the ground and pulled out one of its contents. It was a firework, a beautiful, red firework. "Poke, got a light?"

Poke gleefully smirked and handed him a lighter, watching intently as Mr. J lit the end of the firework. There was a loud bang, and then the sound of whizzing, and then the sky lit up with radiant red light, making them ooh and ahh.

"Cutter," Mr. J said as he swaggered over to Harley's side. "Light up another. Let's light up the night until we run out. That's an order."

"Yes, sir," Cutter said with a wide grin. He lit another and gasped as it soared up into the blackness. Green light this time.

"So beautiful," Poke said with a squeal. "Watch it burn…_burn_, sky! Burn!"

Mr. J turned to Harley and watched the fireworks light up her face in the darkness. She turned to him and stared deeply into his face, an expression of touched disbelief in her eyes.

"You did this…for me?"

"Yup. A little gift for my dearest pet. Something about you told me that you liked fireworks. So that's were me and the cousins went today. It took hours, but we found the best fireworks from here to New Jersey. It wasn't easy, let me tell you. Do you like them?"

A blue firework. Then another green one.

"They're something else," she breathed, unable to control the beautiful shaking of her knees. "They're the most beautiful fireworks I've ever seen..."

"All for you, my sweet. Drink them in. They're all for you."

She thought she would burst with happiness, laughing loudly and joyously as a red one exploded into the night's sky. This was something that she would never, ever forget. Everything about it, the roof, the boys, the smoky smell of fireworks being lit, they would always remain beautiful gems in her memories in the years to follow. But that wasn't the only thing she would remember about this night.

Mr. J pulled her close to him and rubbed his nose tenderly against her cheek. "Don't ever lose that laugh of yours, Harley. It's just too pretty of a thing to lose. Always keep that laugh with you 'til the day you die." Then he kissed her forehead again, brushing back a lock of hair.

It dawned on her suddenly, out of the blue like a crash of thunder. It crept up on her and pounced on her like a wild animal, making her eyes widen as the truth finally clicked in her mind. She realized it completely right then and there.

_I love him. I've been hiding it from myself all this time, but I love him. Maybe I've been in love with him for a while and just didn't fully realize it. But I realize it now_.

The thought surged through her body, making her heart want to explode with emotion. She finally knew the truth about what she had been trying to conceal. She adored the Joker, madly, deeply, and with all her heart. She adored his mannerisms, his ups, his downs, and his faults. She adored his scars, his voice, his presence and his ideals. She adored every part of him, good and bad. She wanted him more than anything else in the world, wanted to be by his side forever. She could die for him if he wanted her to. She was willing at this point.

Her knees wobbled and she almost fell to the ground until he caught her.

"Harley? Are you alright?"

She practically swooned in his arms, realizing just how strong her feelings were. She loved him so much, more than anything else. This was a love that she had never felt in her whole life. She'd kill for him, bleed for him, and humiliate herself all for his sake. Her heart thundered like a drum in her chest and she went limp in his embrace, watching the fireworks and closing her eyes to feel him breathe against her.

_I never knew…just how much I loved him. Oh god! Oh God! I love him so much! Why'd he pick me? He deserves better than me. Oh, God, I love him…_

Mr. J blinked down at her confusedly and let her lean against him for support. Something had happened to her right then and there, he had realized. Something about her had changed forever. She had felt something and things would never be the same between them again. Whatever it was, though, he'd find out later. He'd just keep watching the fireworks.

"Look!" exclaimed Rocco. "That one's a red-violet color. I've never seen one like that!"

Harley sighed and clung tightly to her beloved guardian, not ever wanting to let him go.

She didn't care about whatever wall threatened to keep them from being together and she no longer cared that he was a criminal and a murderer. She was destined to be with him, she was sure of it. And at the thought, she felt herself love him more than ever before. But now, the only problem was just how to tell him. She wasn't sure how to.

_I'll find a way. I can't keep it bottled up inside of me anymore. I'll have to tell him soon._

But for now, she was just content to be with him, wrapped in his arms and aware of her true feelings at last.

The night was lit up with fireworks long until the moon began to drift down into the horizon. Even when the sun arose the next day, the burnt scent of them could still be smelt all afternoon.

For Harley, the scent would stay with her for an eternity.


	23. His

**Day Fourteen**

She didn't know how to act around him anymore.

She didn't want to seem too distant, yet she didn't want to smother him with her presence. The realization of her love for him had truly caused her to lose focus of how to behave when he was around. All she knew was one thing and one thing alone: she wanted him. She wanted him more than anything else in the whole world. Not just emotionally, but physically too.

Okay, well, _a lot_ physically. She yearned to feel his touch on the parts of her body that were hungering so desperately for him. From what had started out as a frightening and threatening appearance, he had become utterly beautiful to her, like an angel that had fallen from grace. And, like an angel, he had liberated her from her meaningless life and had brought her salvation. He had brought her from out of the grim shadowlands that she had lived in and had offered her nothing but the fruits of happiness. To smile, to laugh again…such precious gifts he had given her.

And she didn't know how to tell him.

She was so scared about what he would think. Would he laugh at her? Would he hit her? The thought of his rejection was more than she could bear. It was a funny thought; she'd probably get herself mauled by hardcore feminists out there. But it didn't matter to her anymore. She didn't care just how low she had dug herself into the pit of emotions. She just wanted Mr. J, regardless of how violent, manipulative, and eccentric he was.

"You alright? You looked kind of spaced out." Cutter was staring down at her, a look of concern on his face.

"I'm okay," she lied, trying to rid herself of the starry light in her eyes. "I guess I'm uh…a little tired today."

"You were up a long time last night. Losing sleep isn't good for you, you know."

She wished she could tell Cutter. Cutter might know what to do. He was older than all the others so he might have more wisdom to give regarding her dilemma. But she knew that she couldn't. Poor Cutter did not have to get involved with her little inner-melodrama. He didn't deserve that.

"Thanks for worrying about me, but I'm alright. Really."

"You shouldn't paw at her all the time, Cutter," said Rocco. "She's a grown woman you know. Give her some space."

"I was the one assigned by the boss to look after her," replied Cutter firmly. "I want to make sure that there's nothing wrong with her."

"She looks okay to me," said Henshaw with a shrug.

Poke sauntered over and tickled her face with a piece of fabric. "Let's see. You okay, Harley? Hm?"

"Cut it out," she said with a laugh. "Don't wave that in my face."

Poke smirked. "You see? Just the same as ever."

"I wouldn't say that," Mr. J said as he strolled in.

Almost instantly upon seeing him, her breathing quickened and her face turned red. She hoped he didn't notice. But she found that the more she tried to compose herself, the more she stuck out. He must have sensed this as he went over and plopped down right next to her.

"You feeling alright, Harl?"

"She seems kind of listless, boss. Ever since yesterday."

Mr. J grinned. "Probably still in awe of all those pretty fireworks. Am I right, Harley?"

"Ah…um…yeah…" She turned even redder. She probably sounded like a total moron.

"That's what I thought. You liked them, didn't you, my pet?"

_My pet…_

She loved it when he called her that. Out of all his little nicknames for her, that one was her favorite. But it only made her even worse. She sat on her hands, trying to make it seem like they weren't trembling.

_I…want him...but I…I…_

She wanted to tell him so badly, wanted to curl up in his arms and shout it to the world, but she couldn't do it with everyone here. And even if they weren't there, how would he react? She felt like a fool. She had no right to be with him. She was only here by chance. She probably meant nothing to him, really. He was too perfect for her, too majestic and powerful to be with a simpering, naïve little twit like her. She wanted to cry.

It was like the time when she had first figured out why all the other little girls on the block had Daddies and she didn't. At the time, she had believed that her father had simply died before she was born. But then the truth came, spilling out on accident from one of the neighbor kid's mouth.

"_Don't you get it? He knocked up your mama and run off! The guy ain't here 'cuz he don't wanna be there. He's split."_

And the heartache that followed. She had cried for hours that night. Mother didn't even notice, of course. But Harley remembered the feelings of inadequacy she had felt. She assumed that her Daddy had left because he didn't deserve her. After all, all Daddies were big, good, and kind. So there had to have been something wrong with _her_.

But all the same, the familiar feelings of despair were not as strong as the feelings of love she had for Mr. J. Despite the hopelessness and pain of it all, she wanted to keep on hoping that there was still a chance for them…somehow…

Mr. J studied her face and licked his lips. Something was up. He could sense it. It was something deliciously exciting, but she was keeping it held in. He wanted to shake it out of her, force her to tell, but that would be too abrupt. No, he would wait, as usual.

Getting up, he went over towards the boys, turning his back to her. "We're running low on cash, fellows. We might have to make another…ah, 'team-effort' pretty soon. What do you guys think?"

"If you say so, boss." No one dared to disagree.

And Harley, left behind on the couch, could feel the war within her mind beginning to grow more and more violent; twisting, trying, rationalizing, rambling. On and on.

She had to go lie down.

Her head was hurting.

XxX

Cutter stood alone on the roof and smoked a cigarette, watching the smoke drift aimlessly into the wind.

How much things had changed around here these past two weeks! He could scarcely remember how things had been before. So many things had happened…so many conversations and incidents. And unlike Len, he had managed to survive it all. He was almost forty-seven years old and he knew that he was no longer all that young anymore. Funny, before Harley had come, he hadn't realized how old he really was. The girl made him feel very much like a father.

Harley…

He could see how she had changed after these fourteen days. She had arrived so firm and grounded, despite her panic the first three days. From the very beginning, he had liked her, had been charmed by her sweetness and determination to see through her ordeal. Now, she had grown childish. He could see her eyes becoming more and more round and eager-to-please. No longer was her hair wrapped in a bun nor was her voice as controlled as it had been. She had become guileless, trusting, and terribly insecure. Whenever the boss rebuked her, she looked like a lost little puppy, trying to understand what she did that was wrong.

Despite this, Cutter felt himself care for her more than ever. It was obvious that the girl had issues. The boss had apparently taken the liberty to exposing that. And now she was changing right before his eyes, turning into something that he couldn't quite fully figure out yet.

But he had figured out at least one thing: she was in love with the boss.

It had taken him a little while to completely put the pieces together, but after reading between the lines, it finally had become clear to him. The girl was completely infatuated with him. This was troubling. There had never quite come a time in Cutter's life when he had seen someone actually _love_ the boss. The idea was astonishing. The boss was dangerous. The boss could kill you without blinking. The boss was the very figure that haunted the nightmares of so many people in Gotham.

And yet, Harley was in love with him. Cutter could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. Harley hadn't died yet. She was still here, still breathing and remaining by the boss's side without a single near-death experience. So was she special then? The boss would know but Cutter did not.

_I hope things go alright…_

He didn't want her to get hurt. He didn't want the boss to do anything bad to her if and when she confessed.

_God, I know we haven't exactly been on good terms, but please keep her safe…_

He could hear Poke and the cousins downstairs.

"Wahahaha! That's right, burn! Buurrrnnnn!"

"Poke, just leave the bug alone. It's cruel to torture it like that."

Cutter sighed, finished his cigarette, and tossed it over the side of the roof, staring up into the dim twilight.

He hoped that all would be well in the end. The boss had told him that he would be accompanying them on a planned raid tomorrow. Harley would be by herself then. He hoped she would be okay.

In the distance, a flock of bats screeched and flapped by, swooping and spiraling drunkenly into the murky gloom of the night.

XxX

She tried not to tremble when Mr. J entered the bedroom. She hid herself under the covers and tried to fade away. Her heart pounded violently in her chest and she was torn between telling him and not telling him.

"Harley?"

He stepped forward and she felt herself whimper underneath the sheets. A voice in her ear was whispering in her mother's voice, telling her what a bad girl she was and how she would never be with him.

"Harl?" He sat down on the edge of the bed and she peeked timidly up at him from her quilted fortress. He looked so concerned, so beautifully troubled. His scars were still curled into that endless smile that she loved, but his mouth was frowning.

"Harley, you've been avoiding me all day."

"Yes. I have. I'm really sorry."

"Are you sick again?"

"No."

"Are you hurt?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Then what's wrong? To tell you frankly, it's beginning to irk me. Come out from under those sheets. Come on. Tell Daddy what's wrong."

_Daddy_

She felt herself quiver when he said that. It came from a longing that had long tormented her. The need for a father, the need for someone who understood. But that wasn't all she was quivering about. Her body was yearning for his touch, for his warm hands against her.

"I'm…I'm…_horrible_!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears in front of him. His eyes flickered a bit in confusion but he kept his voice soft and gentle.

"No you're not. Why do you say that, Harley?"

"I'm so bad," she hiccoughed. "I don't deserve anything good! You shouldn't be so nice to me, Mr. J. I'm not worth your kindness. I'm not worth anything!"

"Don't be ridiculous. Stop sniffling. You cannot survive life being all 'oh, woe is me'. Don't tell me you are not worth anything. It isn't true. Stop being such a drama queen and come here."

He held out his arms and she scooted into them, burying her face against him. For someone who killed people, he was so loving, so warm and tender. It was time. She could not keep hiding from him anymore. It was time to tell him.

She stared up into his face. In the past, it had always intimidated her but for once, she felt a burst of bravery that she hadn't known existed.

"What?"

She breathed in. "I love you."

He blinked at her, silent and serious.

She went on. "I love you so much, Mr. J. So much. That's why I've been keeping away from you all day. I don't want to get myself hurt again. I've been hurt so many times and-"

His lips met hers before she could say anything else. She felt she would die from bliss. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. She could feel it surge through her body warming her heart until she felt it would melt within her. Her head spun and she could feel her world swimming around her as if she had been on a tilt-a-whirl. Never, in all the rest of her life, would there be another kiss quite like this.

When it was through, she leaned back and sighed, gazing up at him adoringly. Looking at her, he tilted his head back and roared with laughter. She wasn't quite sure just what was so funny but she didn't care.

"Harley," he breathed. "How much do you love me?"

"So much, Mr. J. I love you so much it _hurts_. It scares me. I didn't even realize it until yesterday. But you…you're not like everyone else. You were always there…always there, Puddin'."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue and she realized that she liked that. Puddin'. It certainly didn't fit his personality, what with his scars and all, but he seemed to be amused with it.

He ran a hand through her hair and she leaned into it, desperate to feel him. He kissed her again and she gasped, almost choking with pleasure. She wanted him now, more than ever.

"Mr. J," she gasped when he broke the kiss. "Please…I…please…"

"Please what? What do you want?"

She moaned and leaned into him. "Please..."

He pinned her against the bed and growled into her face, licking her cheeks and nibbling her. She squealed in delight and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling radiantly. She had confessed how she felt and he was actually _returning_ the feelings. This HAD to be a dream. It was too beautiful to be real.

"You naughty thing," he teased when he saw her longing face. "I knew there was something bad inside that sweet little soul of yours. You stink with desire, Harley."

"Mr. J," she begged. "I want you…please…I want…"

And he began to remove his pants, throwing them into the corner of the room. He ripped off her blouse and took a moment to pause, staring at her slender peach-pink body.

"Well, hello beautiful." He licked his lips. "Harley, Harley, Harley…why did you have to make me wait for so long?"

"Waiting's done," she purred as she kissed his chest, his shoulder, his neck. This was too good to be true.

He grinned and began to feel her, putting his hands everywhere he could. She wanted to howl, to shriek in joy.

_Oh, God, he's touching me…oh god…it feels so fucking good!_

She was no virgin but sex had never been this passionate for her. It had never filled a great void of yearning like it was doing now. She wanted this moment never to end. He was beginning to thrust, roughly and powerfully, grunting all the way. Endless waves of euphoria began to fill her body and she screamed loud and long when she came. Not too long after that, he came as well and collapsed beside her, grinning like a mischievous schoolboy.

"Now that was…interesting…"

She stared at him, utterly exhausted. "Mr. J…"

He looked at her, stroking her hair. "Smile, my sweet, my pet. Smile."

And she did, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had never been so happy in her whole life.

She wasn't alone anymore. He had finally released her from her solitude. She didn't care that he killed people. She didn't care about his scars or his violent mood-swings or his stained reputation. She loved him, _all_ of him. Every last bit. Everyone thought he was a monster, a scarred demon from Hell. _She_ knew otherwise. He was nothing but a man, a divine, terribly-gifted man that had understood her like no one else ever had. This wasn't Stockholm syndrome. This was real. She hadn't fallen in love with him because she was his hostage, she fell in love with him because he belonged to her and she belonged to him. Two of a kind. Birds of a feather. _His._

When the lights went off that last time in the bedroom, she curled up into his arms, kissing his cheeks over and over again. He hushed her and petted her head, allowing her to snuggle into his embrace. While he seemed somewhat reluctant at her ceaseless affection, he went along with it in that usual oh-so-generous way of his and kept her close to him.

"Smile, Harley," he kept saying over and over again. "Smile."

She _was_ smiling. It lingered on her face and wouldn't go away. Something inside of her was beginning to take shape, slowly, but surely. It, whatever it was, made her hold him tighter and rest her head against his side. It was so warm...so _right_.

"Smile…" his words were beginning to fade, crumbling away as he began to fall into slumber. "My little harlequin…my Harley-girl…"

For now, she didn't care about tomorrow, or about her mother, or about those who were worried about her. She was with the man she adored and lying in his arms. Fourteen long, seemingly-endless days and she was finally his at last.

_At last._


	24. Saved?

The sunlight pierced her face as she awoke. Her body was sore, still worn out from last night.

Last night.

_Mr. J!_

Her head whirled around and noticed with disappointment that he wasn't there. That was odd. Getting up and stretching, she straightened up the bed, sniffing the sheets and sighing when she caught his familiar, wonderful scent still lingering on them. Last night had truly changed her. It would be a night she would never forget.

After the bed looked somewhat neat, she went and took a shower, moaning and swooning to herself at just how blessed she was to have been with him for so long. When she found him, she was going to kiss him right in front of the henchmen. She didn't give a damn about what they'd say.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a towel around her waist and stared at herself in the mirror. Mr. J was right. Her hair would be so much better if it were blonde. If he'd let her, she would ask him later to send either Poke or the cousins to fetch some dye. Looking deeply into the glass she couldn't help but notice that something looked different about her. Was it her eyes? Something about them looked odd…almost impish. Oh well.

She dressed and went out into the living room, expecting Cutter to be there waiting for her. But no one was there.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. No one.

"Hello? Cutter? Mr. J?"

Silence.

_This is strange. Mr. J has never left me alone before. Cutter always stays here. What's going on?_

Maybe they had stepped out only briefly…

But she remembered how Mr. J had been talking yesterday of how they were running low on cash. So they'd gone out and left her all alone. That's what it was.

_Well…cheer up! It only means he trusts you enough to let you stay here unattended. How nice of him!_

She smiled at the thought, spinning a bit when she pictured him telling her that himself.

"_I trust you, Harley…"_

Trust. Trust was good. It was something that no one had ever really fully given her. She was always being watched or minded or frowned upon. It was good to know that, once again, Mr. J had displayed better understanding than ninety-percent of the people in her life. God, she loved him.

So she decided to just hang out in the meantime, eating, reading, and lounging idly on the couch. Somehow, though, it was worse because there wasn't _anyone _to talk to. She had been grateful that he had let Cutter watch her for so long because it at least gave her someone to keep her company. Now, alone and restless in this apartment, Harley felt herself inwardly keening for Mr. J's return more than she ever had before.

Noon passed and the hours trudged by sluggishly. _Oh, WHY won't he come back,_ she thought in near-tears._ I miss him so much and it's only been a few hours! _

She paced around the place in an endless circle, fretting and wishing for his return as soon as possible. Occasionally, she flipped through a few pages of a book or played solitaire by herself. The wait was beginning to physically hurt her.

Then, around 2 o'clock, the sound of footsteps down the hall made her jump. Had he returned at last? Then more footsteps, following with the first set.

_That must be Cutter and the others…_

She waited, still absentmindedly holding a queen-of-hearts solitaire card in her hand, sitting on the floor and staring at the door expectantly. Voices. More footsteps. A pause.

BANG!

The sound of the door trying to be kicked open. Her eyes widened. It wasn't Mr. J. Who could it be then?

_Crane. I'll bet it's Crane and his cronies come to take revenge for what happened that one night. What do I do?_

She wouldn't be able to take them on if they all came at her. They would kill her or rape her before she had the chance to stop them. Desperately, she looked all around the apartment, searching for a place to hide. It might not do any good, but it was safer than just sitting there like an idiot.

BANG! Another kick being issued. Her heartbeat pounded in terror as she dashed all about the place, finally settling on the closet.

_Great. Out of all the hiding places, I picked the most obvious one in the world. God, what am I gonna do?_

She shut her eyes and listened to the sounds of more kicks being distributed. The door sounded like it was reaching its limit. She hugged her legs close to her chest and tried to silence the loud sound of her rapidly-beating heart.

A final bang, and then she knew they were inside. Footsteps all over the place. Mutters. The sound of guns being cocked and adjusted. She put a hand over her mouth to keep herself from whimpering. And then, to her horror, the footsteps came just outside the closet door, making her shake and tremble in fear.

_This is it._

The door was flung open and eight long rifles were pointed at her. She shrieked and covered her face with her hands, ready to die.

"Wait," one of the men said, motioning to the others to lower their guns. "Wait a second. This is…whoa...oh my God. It's _her._"

She looked up and blinked. It wasn't Crane or his men. It was a bunch of men in dark uniforms with protective helmets. On each uniform GCPD could be seen.

_Huh?_

The leader took out a small radio and spoke into it, his voice shaking with excitement. "This is Hanson to base. We've found Harleen Quinzel. I repeat-we've _found_ Harleen Quinzel. Over."

One of them put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her to her feet.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

"What's…going on?"

"You're safe now. We came in looking for the Joker but we've found you at last. Come with us." They ushered her along and she wasn't even able to take one last look at the apartment that she and Mr. J had shared for so long. Everything was happening so fast and all at once. Had Mr. J abandoned her?

_No,_ she thought. _He must have known that they would get here soon. He left me here by myself so that I could go back…but I wish I was with him…_

"Keep moving, ma'am. We're taking you someplace safe."

_And by 'someplace safe' they mean someplace nice and secluded where they can question me._

She felt herself almost instantly disliking these GCPD members and their hurried manner of moving her along.

"Are you okay, Ms. Quinzel? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "Where is he?"

"Gone, I'm afraid. We've had no sight of him. It's a good thing you're still alive. You have no idea how anxious the city has been with your disappearance."

They escorted her into a large police car and began to scout the area.

"You'll be safe now," the leader told her before he shut the car door. "After we ask a few questions, you're free to go back to your home. The nightmare is over, ma'am."

But when the door shut and the car began to move farther and farther away from the place she had grown to love so much, she felt a lump rise in her throat.

_Mr. J…_

The apartment faded off into the distance and she could feel herself finally out of Mr. J's beautiful dream-land and back into the cold harshness of Gotham City once more.

_No,_ she thought, a tear running down her face. _The nightmare is not over. It has just begun._

XxX

_**From GCPD headquarters: transcript sample of Dr. Harleen Quinzel under the questioning of Officer Raymond Hibbs.**_

**Hibbs- "Did he ever try to hurt you in a physical way?"**

**Quinzel-"He…um…was a bit rough the first day. I think he was trying to intimidate me."**

**Hibbs-"Did he threaten you?"**

**Quinzel-"Kind of…I think. It's hard to remember." **

**Hibbs-"Think back. Did he give a reason for capturing you?"**

**Quinzel-"I was his doctor. I think he wanted to see what he could get away with. I think he was also using me as a means of attracting the Batman's attention."**

**Hibbs-"Did he try to kill you when you were held hostage there?"**

**Quinzel-"Oh, no! He wouldn't do that! He didn't even try that once."**

**Hibbs-"How did he act while you were there?"**

**Quinzel-"He was very kind to me after a while…he made sure my living conditions were good. He protected me several times. He really was very nice…very…"**

**Hibbs-"Did he drug you at any point during the course of your capture?"**

**Quinzel-"No. Not at all."**

**Hibbs-"Did he try to make you comply with his demands?"**

**Quinzel-"What do you mean by that?"**

**Hibbs-"Did he try to make you do something against your will?"**

**Quinzel-"…No."**

**Hibbs-"You sound hesitant."**

**Quinzel-"No. He didn't do anything like that. Mr.—I mean, the Joker, served as a sort of guardian to me during the time I was there. He was nice to me. He never tried to make me do bad things. Never. He was just content with letting me live and he didn't try to manipulate me. He just kept me there. That's all."**

**Hibbs-"What do you mean by he was nice to you?"**

**Quinzel-"Ah…well um, he often talked with me. He could be very agreeable at points. I was scared at first of him, but nothing bad happened to me. I'm…uh…not saying that what he…uh, did was right. After all, he's a…maniac."**

**Hibbs-"So you think he's as bad as they say?"**

**Quinzel-"Yes. He's bad. Just as bad as they…say. Yes."**

**Hibbs-"Alright. I'm going to warn you now, Harleen. This next question is kind of personal."**

**Quinzel-"Okay."**

**Hibbs-"During the two weeks of your capture, did he ever touch you sexually?"**

**Quinzel-"…"**

**Hibbs-"Harleen? Did he or didn't he?"**

**Quinzel-"..."**

**Hibbs-"I know this question is kind of awkward for you, but please try to think back as much as you can. Did he touch you sexually?"**

**Quinzel-"No."**

**Hibbs-"Are you sure?"**

**Quinzel-"He didn't touch me. Not that I can recall. Not once. I was just there and he was just there. Nothing happened between us. Nothing. After all, why would I want for that? It's a horrible thought. He's a madman and a murderer. I would never do something like that, I swear. May I please leave now?"**

**Hibbs-"In a moment. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?"**

**Quinzel-"No. He never told me. I told you earlier, he would go out occasionally on raids and crimes and stuff."**

**Hibbs-"I see."**

**Quinzel-"Please, sir. I'm really tired. This has been a long two weeks and I want to go home. Please…"**

**Hibbs-"Alright. Okay. You're free to go. If you remember anything important that you forgot to mention, please don't hesitate to tell us. You have our number."**

**Quinzel-"Yes..okay."**

**Hibbs-"Make sure to stay clear of anyplace that could potentially be unsafe. If you're not careful, he might try to snag you again. Keep your eyes open and be aware of what's around you at all times."**

**Quinzel-"Is that all?"**

**Hibbs-"Yes. That's all. I'm sorry for your ordeal, Dr. Quinzel. Let's hope we can put this all behind us."**

**Quinzel-"Yes. Let's hope. Thank you, sir."**

**Hibbs-"Have a good night. Be careful."**

_**Initial report following questioning:**__** Dr. Quinzel seems to have no significant reasons for being suspicious. The two weeks she spent appears to have troubled her somehow, but not affected her mental health or state of being. She appears to be in a somewhat-healthy condition and was rather calm throughout the session, if not in a bit of a rush. There appears to be nothing particularly doubtful about her. While she seems to speak of the Joker in a sense that she respects him, the idea that she has become personally fond of him is rather farfetched. **__**Final Deduction:**__** Quinzel appears to be mentally stable. In time, she should be able to return to her job and continue to live in society, hopefully not permanently changed from her experiences. We can all hope that the Joker will be taken back into custody and returned to Arkham asylum where he rightfully belongs.**_

XxX

When she opened the door to her apartment, the weight of it all came crashing down on her.

She'd managed to fool her questioners into leaving her alone. She'd not told the complete truth to them. Well, actually, she really hadn't told the truth at _all_. Two weeks ago, she would have been ashamed with herself for that, but now she just didn't care.

It was good that she had managed to keep a calm head throughout the questioning. Now they wouldn't bother her anymore. Even the press was leaving her alone. Sure, a few people with cameras had trailed behind her on her way home, but she promptly didn't acknowledge them and just kept to herself. It was the best method of getting them to go away.

She went over to the sink and splashed cool water on her face, sighing as she stared at her old surroundings.

There was no henchmen constantly watching you, there were no knives and guns and talk about killing. There was no scars or bruises or prodding. The walls weren't cracked and there wasn't a room where a man had been killed in.

But this place was not her home.

There was no excitement, no roofs to chat on, no beds to share, no mind-games to play and no fireworks. There was no Cutter or Poke or Rocco or Henshaw or even Len.

And no Mr. J.

No Mr. J there to stare down at her and pet her head and coax her into talking about herself while he told her that he understood how she felt. No Mr. J to scold her or tease her or call her "my pet". No Mr. J beside her, shushing her in the night as she struggled with endless nightmares of the heartless, gray world she used to know. No Mr. J…those days were over. The beautiful dream had ended and she had finally returned to the real world. Back to Arkham Asylum, back to her apartment, back to her life before _him_.

And Harley tilted back her head and cried.


	25. Gift

"We're very glad to have you back," Mr. Arkham said. "I'm so glad to see that you are alright. But really, Harleen, you don't have to be here if you don't want to."

She shook her head. "No. I WANT to be here. It takes my mind off of things…"

Four days.

It had been four days since her rescue and already she could feel herself growing numb inside. She wanted to see him so badly, hear his voice again. His absence had made her do nothing but sleep the past few days away and she found that she had little appetite or energy or motivation. So returning to her work was the best solution.

"Of course, we'll assign you to some of the tamer inmates," Arkham was saying. "Just so that you'll be able to cope until you can get back on your feet. Would you mind that?"

She looked up at him and gave him a pained smile. "Of course not. That's fine with me, sir."

As they walked down the hall, she could hear the other doctors staring at her, whispering to each other.

"_For someone who was kidnapped, she doesn't look too changed, does she?"_

"_What was Dr. Arkham thinking when he gave her the job? The girl is a complete moron."_

"_I bet she thinks she's better than us just because she got 'extra-time' with her patient."_

"_Poor foolish thing. She shouldn't have let the clown get too close. It is her own fault she got kidnapped. Every doctor should know to always avoid being in harm's way."_

They were all against her, ever last one of them. They had never liked her and now things were worse than before. Even if they didn't say it directly out loud, she could always see it in their faces and hear it in their voices.

"_Looks like her name finally suits her…a harlequin…a little fool."_

"_The only reason why she's here is because every group needs a token idiot. Isn't that in all the movies?"_

"_God, I can't stand her! Why doesn't she just get kidnapped again and be out of our way for crying out loud!"_

"Are you alright?" Mr. Arkham asked as he saw her face growing pale and flushed.

"Yes," she said, looking down. "I'm alright. Don't worry about me."

Mr. Arkham left her alone for a while and she walked down the hall by herself. But still, their voices followed her.

"_She thinks she's so perfect…"_

"_Fool…"_

"_Not one of us…"_

"_Not fit to be a doctor…"_

Her heart thundered and she ran from them towards her office, not wanting to hear the voices ringing in her head anymore.

Mr. J was right about people. They really _were _the heartless monsters he said they were. They didn't care about the problems she was going through. They just were looking out for only themselves. Mr. J had been so right.

_Mr. J!_

She wanted him now more than she ever had in her life. He understood her. Her Mr. J wasn't like all these jealous bozos. He was strong and intelligent and empathetic and talented. They were mud compared to him. How she missed him so…

Sitting in her chair at her desk, she brought her legs up and hugged them against her chest. The inside of her mouth felt dry and her body was worn with fatigue despite her having woken up only three hours ago.

_I've come back to my real life, but I feel so…numb. I feel nothing. Oh, Mr. J! Oh, Puddin', what am I supposed to do?_

And his words came back to her, lighting up her hazy brain like a shaft of lightning.

"_You laugh, Harley, and for a moment, all the pain is behind you. You're just stuck in a moment of happiness, no matter how brief it is. If you're always laughing, nothing can harm you."_

And she did, letting it bubble softly out of her mouth and into the stillness of her office. She kept it quiet so as not to attract any attention. It wasn't much and it didn't completely make her feel better, but it was enough to give her strength for the time being.

Looking up at the clock, she rubbed her forehead and sighed.

It was time for a session with one of her patients.

XxX

_Little Harleen is running on the sidewalk with tears in her eyes._

_Those neighborhood brats have been mean to her again. How she wishes they would just let her live!_

_The house is dark and empty when she gets in and she cries a bit harder knowing that no one is here. Going up to her room, she sniffles and decides to hide underneath her bed-covers. Sammy's button eyes stare at her in sympathy as she tries to disappear away from the pain, from the stinging, from the jeers and mocks._

"_**Don't worry," Sammy says to her. "What do they know? You're better than all of them put together."**_

_She whimpers and hugs him against her, letting her tears soak the fabric of his stuffed body. But despite this, she still feels hollow inside._

"_I wish there was someone nice in this neighborhood," she says. "I wish there was someone who cared about me."_

"_**I care about you."**_

"_But it is not the same. I wish there was someone my age who could stand up to those jerks for me. I never did anything bad to them. Why can't they see that?"_

"_**Don't worry. Things will turn out alright in the end, you'll see."**_

_And she naps for a little while, dreaming of worlds beyond rejection and loneliness. She journeys into oblivion where the world just spins and everyone has a smile or a pat on the back for her. One day, she vows, she will find what she's been looking for. One day, she fill find what she craves in order to fill up the hole within her. One day…_

_A young adolescent boy strolls by the house outside, smoothing back his wild locks in the breeze. He blinks, his golden-brown eyes puzzled for a moment, as if something eerie had swept passed him, and stares out blankly at the house. Then he shrugs and goes on his way, whistling down the block._

XxX

Harley awoke in the darkness of her room in the early evening, startled and puzzled from the dream that was now beginning to fade away from her mind. Must've been brought on by something she had eaten earlier.

Not feeling like going back to sleep, she got to her feet and paced around the room, biting her lip. Sitting down at the table, she pulled out the outfit she had been sewing together.

She wasn't exactly sure why she had taken up sewing or just what exactly she was making, but she found that it relieved her most of the time from the endless void that had become her life. She had bought the thick red fabric for the outfit on an impulse and was trying to come up with an interesting pattern to put on it…diamonds perhaps. Maybe it would be a cloak or a uniform of some kind. She'd just keep at it until it came to her.

She pricked her finger on accident with the needle and gasped a little in surprise. A tiny drop of blood welled up on her finger and she put it in her mouth and sucked on it.

She had always hated needles, but somehow, things just weren't physically hurting her that much anymore. Instead, she barely noticed them. Everything around her was blank and meaningless, like grade-school drawings that children had forgotten to color. She found that other than pining for Mr. J, she couldn't feel much of anything anymore. Food had lost its flavor and her dreams got farther and farther from her reach.

Her apartment had become this barren wasteland, a tomb for her to wander around vacantly. Like being bound by some sort of make-believe curse in a fairytale, she felt as if she were doomed to feel eternal solitude and isolation from the rest of the world. Day and night passed by without her realizing. Soft things became hard and hard things just became harder than they had been before. There was a dull, lifeless look in her eyes as she looked at herself in the mirror.

She had survived her kidnapping, but why was it that she felt more dead than alive? Her life had lost its meaning somehow, had become like a song without lyrics. Every day felt like purgatory, every minute like winter. She was just…empty.

_Maybe I'll never see Mr. J again…_

It was a terrible thought, a horrible thought. She could feel herself going into hysterics already. She could never think that. Not ever. He HAD to see her again eventually. After all, he had said so many times that he cared about her, that she was his and his alone.

_I can't lose him. I CAN'T. Without him…I'm practically dying here. So alone…so sick of this…Mr. J…Puddin'…God, I love to go back to see him. And Cutter and Poke and Rocco and Henshaw too. This place is like a cage, a graveyard. Why was I so demanding to return to this place when I had been kidnapped? I don't want to be here anymore. I can't take this! Without him I…I…"_

"Oh, Mr. J," she said softly, pressing her eyes with her hand. "Where are you?"

A sudden knock on the door issued and she jumped in surprise.

"Who is it?"

"The management, ma'am. There's this package that was waiting for you in the lobby. I don't think you saw it earlier."

Huh? A package? Who could it be from? Her mother was dead and she hadn't heard much from her aunt and uncle for a long time.

"Okay," she said, wrapping a robe around herself. "I'll take it."

She collected the package and brought it over to the table, cocking her head as she examined it. What could it be? A gift from someone? Letters of questions from the press?

But her heart began to flutter, giving her the first genuine feelings of life she had felt in days as she slowly began to realize just who it could be from.

In a giddy frenzy, she began to rip apart the package, pulling back cardboard to discover what was inside. It had always been a bit of a chore for her in the past, but she found that today, it was somehow easier for her. She probably was too excited to really notice.

The package finally opened, she inhaled and stared into the shadows inside. Very, very slowly, she reached in and felt inside, somewhat startled to feel the texture of soft, stuffed fabric. Pulling the object out, she gasped.

Sammy.

Her old stuffed rabbit! It was Sammy! A bit worn, perhaps, but still in good condition. All he really needed was a bit of patching up. But it really was him: the same drooping ears, the same black button eyes, the same little velvet nose that she had kissed so much in her childhood.

_But how? Where did Mr. J find him? Is this really even the same one I had?_

She inspected the stuffed rabbit and gasped when she found the same, sewn-on markings on his right foot that she had put on him long ago: H.Q.

It was really Sammy. Somehow, someway, her Mr. J had found him for her. She squealed in delight and hugged the stuffed rabbit over and over again, murmuring out tiny cries of gratitude for her Puddin' and how thoughtful he was.

_Mr. J did this just for me! He still cares about me!_

She tossed Sammy up in the air, catching him and rubbing her face against him. He even smelled the same way she remembered him. Mr. J was so caring, so considerate! Sammy wasn't the only thing she had received—she had received something much greater. She knew now that she and Mr. J could not be parted forever. She was his and would be his until the end of her days. And that thought was enough to fill up the hole inside of her, bring a ray of light into her bleak, empty life.

A small card along with something else fell from out of the package and drifted towards the floor like a fallen leaf, making her squeak as she dove for it. The card was a bit tattered and the words were somewhat messily-written, but she could still make it out.

_**To My dearest Harley Quinn,**_

_**Don't start missing me too much. I've brought you an old friend to talk to. I hope you are being a good girl back at that boring old asylum you're probably still working at. Don't you worry; I'll be seeing you again **__**real**__** soon. After all, I always want to be there to look after what's mine, don't I?**_

_**You better behave yourself. I don't want to hear that you're going to run off with some new patient. But you won't, of course. You're not that kind of girl, are you, my pet?**_

_**Just be patient. I'll come for you soon.**_

_**Wait for me.**_

_**-J**_

_**P.S. Until then, keep on smiling! **_

She read the words over and over again, sighing and taking them in. It was enough to make her want to burst with joy. She practically danced with Sammy around the room.

_He said he'd come for me soon! _

Then she blinked when she noticed that there was something that had come with the card, something red…

A rose.

A beautiful crimson rose that, despite being slightly weakened from lack of water, seemed to glow with a powerful aura. She inhaled sharply as she felt about its velvet petals, breathing in its crisp, wonderful scent. She made a mad dash for a vase of water and placed it there, watching it perk up back to life.

Yet another gift he had given to her. A rose…the very symbol of love and passion. She knew she was being overly-dramatic, but she didn't care. Somehow, this was the best gift of all.

_He did this all for me…all for me…_

She didn't feel so empty anymore. Her Mr. J was out there somewhere, hiding in the shadows of the night, remembering that she was forever bound to him and him to her. This knowledge would give her the strength to go on, to brave through this endless nightmare of desolation and dullness. She couldn't care what the other doctors thought anymore. She now knew that she had something that they didn't. She was free and they weren't. She could now breathe at ease knowing that as long as her Puddin' was alive; she would never be alone again.

'_Cuz me and Mr. J are two of a kind!_

And she laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.


	26. So Close!

She ignored the looks her fellow doctors gave her the next day. It didn't matter that much to her anymore. She simply strode by them and took no notice of their whisperings. She didn't want to hear what they had to say about her.

"I'm glad to see that you're looking a bit better," Mr. Arkham said. "I trust you'll work to your fullest for your other patients. I'm still counting on you, you know."

"Yes sir. I know."

Yes, she was still doing her job. But somehow, she felt lighter, almost as if she were doing this all for the first time. It was like some part of her was beginning to emerge ever-so-slowly from within her, just starting to become aware of what was going on around her.

She ate her lunches alone, no longer really desiring Mr. Arkham's company. She still liked him…kind of, but he was sort of beginning to get on her nerves with his constant pawing and prodding. She could see why Mr. J had criticized him the way he had. Still, he was still her superior and she did still have a lot of respect for him.

She often took Sammy to work with her, letting him watch her with his button eyes as she sluggishly completed her paperwork at her office. It was just like old times.

But she still longed to see Mr. J. Already, the rose he had sent her was beginning to die, in that way that most fragile plants do, and she could feel herself grow hungrier to feel him again, to hear his voice.

She wished he would come claim her as his own again. It was getting truly dull around the asylum, wiping the noses of all the psychos and lunatics she dealt with. But it always helped to smile and find something to laugh at.

Laughter truly was the best medicine after all.

XxX

She liked going to the park in the afternoon, watching the world go by around her. There, she could think of her Mr. J without the stares of her peers. Sammy sat next to her on the bench, propped upright into a sitting position to stare into space with long cocked ears and bright eyes.

That one afternoon, she rested there on the bench and took out the letter he had sent her days ago, cherishing the fact that his scent still lingered on it. It was cloudy despite the sunlight that had been present the past few days and the air was cool. Summer was beginning to turn into autumn. She hoped to be back at her Joker's side by winter. That would be nice.

A woman darted by, freeing Harley from her daydream. The woman was utterly gorgeous with long, lovely red-hair that shined and blew in the breeze. She was inspecting the grass, searching for different kinds of flowers and fussing over any paper or plastic bottles that she found on the ground. It was kind of a silly sight and Harley felt herself giggle a little. Then the woman was gone, scurrying off to search for more plants, muttering to herself all the way.

Harley felt herself begin to drift away again, shutting her eyes briefly as she listened to the birds chirp from the trees. This park was the only part of Gotham that was actually _good_. There was no corruption here, no foolish people or crazies or Batman. Just life and nothing else.

_When Puddin' rules over Gotham,_ she thought lazily, _I'll have to make sure to ask him to give me this one bit of land. He'll have so much turf already, I'm sure he won't really mind._

She imagined the day when Mr. J would finally come into power, crushing all the stupid law enforcements and the Batman. He'd be a _great_ ruler. He'd show these people what life truly was. He'd make them see the joke that was all around them. And she would be glad to remain his faithful follower, sticking by his side through it all.

_Mr. J…_

BOOM!

The building across the street exploded.

People ran and screamed, darting this way and that way as smoke and fire began to rise overhead. Harley had frozen in her seat, her eyes wide as she stared at the pandemonium in front of her.

A bang. Gunfire, this time. And there he was.

Out of the smoke came her Mr. J, four men in clown masks right behind him. He was holding out his knife, waggling it around and licking his lips as the crowds cleared and bolted away.

Harley was so glad to see him that she almost fainted. From across the street, his eyes met hers and he came forward, the boys aiming their guns all around to cover him. Her heart beat loudly as she came forward also, shyly, but happily.

"Mr. J…"

"Hello, my pet. Did you get my present?"

She wrapped her arms around him and was about to kiss him when she paused, nervous that someone would see her.

"It's alright," he said. "Look." The smoke from the building had created a sort of mist around them, hiding them from anyone who tried to spot them. Delighted at this prospect, Harley covered his face with kisses, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his scars. He chuckled and ruffled her hair, putting his forehead against hers. It felt so good to be close to him again.

"I miss you so much, Puddin'," she whispered. "I feel like dying without you. Let me come with you."

"Can't now, I'm afraid. The police will be here soon. Besides, you're not quite ready just yet. You need more time to…think things over…" His eyes gleamed.

"But I wanna go with you now! It's hurting me being away from you!"

"Sorry, my dear. All good things come to those who wait. I'm afraid Sammy will have to be the only one for company for now. But until our time is up…" He whirled her around and nipped at her, taking in her scent. "Don't worry. When all of this is over, we'll have LOTS of fun. Lots of ah, 'ha-ha' if you know what I mean." Her grinned devilishly and she felt her body shudder slightly, anticipating what he meant.

She could hear sirens in the distance, but they still sounded too far away for her to care. She was just content to be near him for the moment, even though she knew it wouldn't last. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest, listening to his breathing as he held her. He growled low in his throat, scowling at something, and held her tighter, almost tight enough to hurt her.

"He's here," he murmured with a smirk, half-peeved and half-delighted. "Ooh boy, he's here…"

"Huh? Who's here?"

"Batsy. He's up there on the building next door. On the roof. No, don't move, Harl. Let Daddy figure this out."

"Boss," one of the masked men said, most likely Cutter. "I think he's going to charge us. What do we do?"

"I never thought I'd like this, but looks like I've got to have a plan. Harley, stay still and look like you're in pain. Yes, like that. Now keep quiet and let me do the talking. When I'm done, I want you to cry out in pain, sound like you want nothing to do with me."

"But Mr. J—"

He squeezed her roughly, making her cease all protest. Then he tipped his head upwards towards the dark figure that was regarding him from the roof.

"Hey, Batsy, my boy. It's been a while, hasn't it? You can't begin to imagine how much I've missed you. But you never call and you never write. What a shame. Oh well, look what I've got here. My little Harley-girl. It must be humiliating to know that the police beat you on the wild goose hunt to find her. But don't you worry, Bats, you get a first-class view of watching me steal her away again."

Then, on cue, Harley let out a discomforted cry, keeping her voice nervous enough to sound genuine. She made fake attempts to struggle from out of his grasp, uttering phony cries of distress.

Then, like a black bullet, the figure swooped down and stared at Mr. J from behind that dark, pointed-eared mask. This was a shock for Harley as she had never seen the Batman in person. Now she was seeing him for the first time and she couldn't have been more repulsed. This was the man that caused Mr. J so much trouble.

"Let her go," the Batman said in a low, hoarse voice. It was as if he had swallowed a broken bottle. "Leave her out of this."

"As far as I'm concerned, Batsy, this is between all three of us. Poor Harley here might get hurt if you come any closer." She could feel Mr. J's breathing grow rapid, evidently from excitement. In the distance, the police sirens were getting closer and closer.

Mr. J seemed to hear them as he cocked his head to listen. "Ah tut-tut. Looks like you've got to make a choice, Bats. Harley alive or me back at Arkham. Your choice." He pressed his knife against Harley's face, making her try not to smile in exhilaration. Behind him, the boys were all pointing their guns at the Batman, ready to fire at any moment.

The Batman stared into Harley's face, his dark eyes meeting her baby-blues. It was enough to send a shiver down her spine. Even desperate, the man carried a sort of frightening air to him.

"Give me Dr. Quinzel," Batman said gruffly. "Give me her and leave. But I will still find you wherever you go. I promise you that."

Mr. J giggled. "As you command," he said and he release Harley and shoved her forward. "Looks like we'll be going now. We'll have to schedule our little meeting later, Batsy. How's Thursday sound to you?"

"When I find you, you're going back to the madhouse you belong in."

But Mr. J only roared with laughter. "Whatever you say. Come on, boys. Let's get going. Au revoir, my sweet Harleykins. Goodbye, but not forever." He grinned, waved his knife and then disappeared into the smoky fog with his henchmen, laughing loudly all the way.

"You're safe now," The Batman told her, oblivious to the look of longing on her face as she stared into the distance for Mr. J. "The police should be here soon."

She blinked and stared at him, her eyes cold and emotionless. "Maybe you should stay here too. I don't know what kind of a world we live in where people in bat suits get to just run free."

"Dr. Quinzel, I'd advise you to keep as far away as possible from the Joker. He's incredibly dangerous and he could kill you next time he finds you. He's completely insane and you do not know what he is capable of."

The nerve! _She_ knew Mr. J better than anyone else! They had shared secrets with each other, had recognized that they were more alike and more alive than anyone else in Gotham. And where had this dear, darling dark knight been? Searching around blindly in the dark for her without any success. No wonder everyone was against him. She could feel hate for this man surging through her, making her blood hot.

"I was perfectly alright until you showed up, _sir_," she said to him coldly. "I could handle him. He didn't frighten me."

"Don't be foolish," he replied, his eyes glowing. "The Joker is no ordinary man. To have him interested in you is not a good thing. He must be captured and locked away as soon as possible."

"Then why don't you go then? Why are you wasting your time here with me? Go on, I'll be fine now."

The Batman, staring at her for a long slow moment, tilted his head to hear the sirens and then gave her a quick nod. Pulling out one of his devices, he pointed it towards the roof and was gone in a moment, leaving her alone as the police pulled up to the sight.

"Hey! You! What happened? Have you seen the Joker?"

"No," she said, watching the dark figure vanish into the shadows in pursuit of her beloved Mr. J. "I didn't see anyone." She walked away, leaving the hapless cops behind to scratch their heads and try to scrutinize the area.

That damned Batman had ruined their little reunion! He was nothing but a menace, not fit to be Mr. J's opponent. She hoped that Batman wouldn't catch Mr. J today. She hoped that Mr. J had managed to get away quickly enough. The thought of Batman hurting him was enough to make her head reel.

_I was so close to going back to being with him again. Stupid Batman! Stupid, self-righteous, intimidating, arrogant moron! Mr. J is worth more than fifty of him!_

She kicked a rock into the gutter on her way back towards her apartment, gritting her teeth and balling her hands into tight fists. Glad as she was to have seen her Puddin' again, she could already feel herself yearning for his presence again once more. That stupid Bat…

She threw her work briefcase onto the chair of her apartment and put Sammy on the bed. Staring out into the horizon, she glared at the city, feeling waves of anger pass through her, making her want to rip and tear and attack.

_Batman! If you ever try to hurt Mr. J, I'll make you wish you had never been born!_

She laughed loudly at the thought, imagining herself pushing Batman into a tiger pit or a shark pit like she had seen in the old hero/villain cartoons. Her eyes seemed to glow an eerie blue light as she giggled softly, echoing out the window.

_This city is Mr. J's and his alone! His day is coming when he'll finally dispose of you at last! You'll see…then you'll see how foolish I am then._

She cackled and felt that pleasurable shift within her move once more, making her bolder, stronger.

Had she looked at herself in the mirror, she would have seen a stranger staring back at her.


	27. Eyes Wide Open

"_Hey! Stop it! Ow!"_

_Little Harleen, eight years old, covers her face with her hands as the mean neighbor boys shove her to the ground. For years, she has been trying to win over their respect, preforming dares and dangerous feats all for them. Now, they just see her as a pain and a nuisance and they get more pleasure out of being bullies._

"_What's wrong? I thought you want to hang around with us. Looks like you're just a baby after all."_

"_No! I'm not! Stop kicking me!"_

_They only kick harder, laughing like hyenas. There are three of them and they are all older and stronger than her, making it hard to get away. _

"_Look, she's crying. Why are you crying, baby? Ha-ha-ha…"_

_Suddenly an older boy charges forward, shoving them away from her._

"_Hey!" the oldest neighbor boy cries out. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"_

"_Get lost," the adolescent growls, glaring at them with flaming brown eyes. "Or I'll send you all to the hospital."_

"_Oh yeah?" All three of the boys run at him, throwing punches. Harleen watches in awe as the adolescent dodges their blows and punches each boy to the ground. Then he towers over them, making them tremble in fear. _

"_Go," he snarls and they get to their feet and run like frightened puppies, crying out for their mother all the way._

_The boy blinks down at her and she stands up, smiling brightly up at him. _

"_Are you alright?" he asks._

"_Yes. I'm okay. Thanks for helping me."_

"_Whatever," the boy says as he starts to walk away._

"_Wait!" she calls, running and following him like a giddy puppy. "What's your name? I haven't seen you around here before."_

"_My name's none of your business. I have better things to do than hang around with little kids."_

"_Hey! I'm not a little kid! I'll be nine soon."_

"_Oh yeah?" he asks leaning down and grinning smugly at her. "I'm fifteen."_

"_Whoa. You're like, almost a grown-up!"_

_He laughs and shakes his head. "Not really. I wouldn't want to be a grown-up anyway. Grown-ups are cold and mean."_

"_My teachers at school are grown-ups and they're nice to me. All grown-ups are nice, aren't they?"_

"_Not my father. My father…well, he's not so nice. He's the one who keeps moving us around anyway. When that asshole isn't drinking, he's looking for something to yell at you about. I can't stand him."_

"_Wow," Harleen says in a hushed voice. "That sounds bad. I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be," he replies, turning his head to the west. "It's not worth it talking about my old man. All I know is that he'll make us move out again in about a week or so. Mark my words."_

"_Aw, really?"_

_He nods. "Eventually, yes."_

"_Aw, man. I thought for a moment that I had someone to play with in the neighborhood. No one is as cool and nice as you around here."_

_He turns a slight shade of red and leans up against the sidewalk-fence. "Aw, cut it out. I don't want to have some little kid gushing over me. You should go home now. Your mother is probably worried about you and nothing says bad news like a little girl running around with a teenager."_

"_Mother isn't worried about me," Harleen says softly, staring at the ground. The boy looks at her with a raised eyebrow, studying her. They are both quiet for a few minutes._

"_Listen, kid," he says suddenly, breaking the silence. "If those boys ever give you trouble again, fight back! Don't let them bully you like that. Fight them with all your might."_

"_But they're older and stronger than me."_

"_So? They're big jerks, too. You can't let people be mean to you like that. Give 'em what for, got it?"_

"_Okay," she says with a nod. _

"_Good. I gotta go now. My old man is bound to pitch a fit if I'm not home soon. So long, kid." He turns to leave and walks ahead._

"_Wait! Please tell me your name!"_

_He tilts his head over his shoulder and smiles at her. _

"_I'm Jack."_

XxX

She sat up in bed and stretched, yawning loudly to herself.

_Another boring day at work. Ho hum._

After showering and getting dressed, she stopped to look outside the window, watching the people come and go on the street. Then she looked at the clock and glumly munched on a piece of toast, reading the newspaper for any information on Mr. J. Nothing new about him was really mentioned except for the building he had blown up yesterday.

**Members of the GCPD are doing all that they can to apprehend the menace. The Commissioner says that he has confidence that the notorious criminal will be captured and brought to justice very soon.**

Ha! They'd never catch him. Mr. J was too smart for them. The only one who had a chance of capturing him was the Batman, but she doubted that even he could do it.

"In the end," she said to Sammy. "They're all one big pack of fools." She giggled, wadded the paper up into a ball, and hurled it into the garbage across the room.

"Mr. J knows what he's doing, doesn't he?" she asked the stuffed rabbit. "He'll come back for me very soon, won't he?"

The shiny black button-eyes just stared at her emptily.

"Of course he will," she continued, smiling to herself. "No one will be able to stop him. He's practically indestructible, hee hee hee…"

She got her work-briefcase settled together and strolled out of her apartment, heading for the bus stop.

A new day had begun.

XxX

"Dr. Quinzel?"

Her head snapped up, unused to the name after so long. It was one of the guards—Bobby, she thought his name was. He looked pretty nervous.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Dr. Arkham and some of the other guards found something. Dr. Arkham wants to see you and ask you a few questions."

"Alright."

She got up and followed Bobby down the hallway, entering Arkham's office.

"Sir? You wanted to see me?"

"Harleen," the older man said, motioning her to sit down. "We've found something very unsettling. Look at this." He held up a red-streaked Joker card, the words 'ha-ha' scribbled all over it. "There's something also on the back of it. Look." Flipping the card over, she saw her initials written in red (blood?), and little hearts drawn all around them.

"We found it today outside the asylum gates," Dr. Arkham said, staring grimly at her. "Do you have any idea what it might mean?"

She shook her head. "No, sir."

"Your initials are on it. And why are there hearts there?"

"I'm not sure. I know that he's still a little obsessed with me. Maybe it's a message to you. He's not here, so what's to worry about?"

"What's to worry about," he said sternly. "Is that he's still after you. He's trying to intimidate us, mess with us. The damned monster. I wish he were caught."

_Damned monster! _

She tried not to shout at Arkham, biting her lip in order to keep herself quiet.

"I'm sorry for this unfortunate situation, sir."

"He's a psycho, Harleen. He needs to be locked up and punished for his actions. When the police finally capture him, we're going to make him pay for all the trouble he's caused us."

_You want to lock him up and swallow the key, huh? Watch it, Jeremiah…_

She was beginning to get really mad.

"I'm sure everything will be fine, sir. Remember, he's not mentally stable. He isn't fully responsible—"

"He IS fully responsible! How many people has he killed? Hundreds? Ten-hundreds? He threatens us and ruins the lives of so many people in Gotham. He kidnapped you and held you captive in that hellhole apartment for two weeks! He's a freak, a danger to society. He needs to be locked away where he can't wreck any more havoc. You should know this, Harleen."

She wanted to throw herself at Arkham and kill him where he stood. No one said stuff like that about Mr. J. _No one._ Had she really used to like and respect this man? What a joke! She had seen his true colors at last. In the end, he had proven to be no better than the police or the Batman or anyone else in Gotham. He was just like all the others after all…

"Harleen? Are you alright? Why are you shaking like that?"

_I'm shaking out of rage, you idiot. _

Instead, she composed herself and tried to calm herself down. "I'm alright. Sorry…sir. I just got a little anxious. Your words made me realize how much I don't want Joker capturing me again. I don't think I could bear to go through that again."

"I'm sorry for getting you nervous. I was overreacting. But I just want you to be safe, Harleen. The Joker is a very vile and dangerous man."

_You're about to meet a dangerous __**woman**__ if you don't shut up…_

She gave him her sweetest smile. "Don't worry. I'll keep myself safe. We'll get through this."

"Alright. You're excused now."

"Thank you…sir."

_Thank God! I thought it would never end!_ Turning to leave he called out to her, stopping her.

"We'll catch him soon, Harleen. I know we will."

"Yes…"

She left the office and leaned against the wall, contemplating to herself. How foolish she had been in the beginning! She had actually thought that she had a friend in Dr. Arkham. But it was all a lie. Arkham was yet another enemy for Mr. J to have to face, yet another wall that separated him from her. Arkham didn't care about Mr. J. All he cared about was ensuring the peace of his worthless asylum.

The truth of it all came at her so quickly that it made her heart ache. The anger, the betrayal, the feeling of foolishness…

_Damnit!_

She punched the wall and stomped back to her office, vowing that from that day forward, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was no longer her friend.

_Yet another thing you showed me about people, Mr. J. You were completely right about him._

And upon becoming more awakened to the truth, she got closer and closer to the edge. And then what? What then?

She didn't know what the edge entailed, but she could see now that it brought her more comfort than this pitiful excuse for a life she was living now. Little by little, she was peeling off her mask and beginning to see things through a different perspective.

This world was a joke and the only one who mattered to her now was Mr. J. He was her sun, her moon, her stars and her world. He was right about people. They all deserved to pay for their ignorance and lack of understanding. Society had forsaken the two of them—giving them lives of pain and unhappiness. But their time was now. Fools like Dr. Arkham and the Batman would not be there when Mr. J ruled Gotham.

With a gleeful smirk, Harley doodled all over her notes, imagining what the world would be like when Mr. J was in control. She could never repay him for helping her see the folly of her life as boring Dr. Harleen Quinzel. He had awakened her and had set her on a course to find her true destiny.

_But what is it? What is my true destiny?_

She felt that she would find out soon enough. Until then, she'd put up with this nonsense. Unlike everyone else, she was aware of the joke. She wasn't ignorant of it all anymore.

_Soon,_ she thought to herself. _Soon this will all stop._

She'd wait for that moment. She'd wait for the event when she'd be able to be with Mr. J at last. She had hope.

And hope was all she needed for now.


	28. My Body is a Cage

Boredom.

Days pass by slowly and dully. The people in the background only grow more and more tedious and harder to tolerate. Your dearest lover has not given you a message of his location and condition and you feel your world growing blank and gray.

Thus were Harley's feelings throughout the coming days as she waited in agony to hear from Mr. J again. She could hardly sleep at night or eat or concentrate on her work. She still had hope, but now there was something rather sad about everything around her. It was as if she was lost in a veil of mist, trapped and bound in some invisible prison.

She kept herself busy by sewing her red outfit and going back-and-forth between her job and her apartment. Sometimes she'd feel like screaking out laughter at random, feeling urges to inflict mayhem and mischief, and other times she felt like bursting into tears altogether. She could feel herself changing more and more with each passing day, becoming more of a stranger to herself.

"Harleen," Dr. Arkham said one afternoon. "You've been staring off into space all day."

_Feh. Well isn't he so concerned? Better not get too loopy, Harl or else he just might LOCK YOU UP forever. Doesn't he have anything better to do than constantly hang around and bother me? Remind me WHY I liked this guy again?_

"I'm sorry. I guess I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"Yes, well, just keep your mind on your work. We can't have you dropping on us."

She rolled her eyes when he wasn't looking and sneered as he walked away. She was tired of his poking at her; it was enough to drive her mad!

_Mad…heh…_

Maybe she was already going a little mad. The thought had crossed her mind one or two times. But, then again, wasn't Mr. J considered to be mad too? She didn't know. It was too much of a mind-stressor to debate. So, she simply decided to forget about it.

There was no real need to worry about it. After all, work was over for today.

Time to head home.

XxX

_That Arkham,_ she thought as she walked down the sidewalk. _He's become yet another barrier keeping me and Mr. J apart. He's keeping me from being totally free. Maybe if Mr. J were here, he could be eliminated and I would finally be at liberty to do what I want at last. If we could only remove him from the equation…_

Part of her was shocked with how uncharacteristically cruel she had gotten the past few days. Even though the idea of killing someone still made her sick to her stomach, she had decided that it would be most interesting to physically hurt someone….to just punch and kick and cut anyone who dared to get in her way. It would be an exciting experience for her, an enlightening one.

She giggled softly.

Then a voice, hushed and quiet called out to her from behind an alleyway, making her stop dead in her tracks.

"Harley…Harley…"

Was it Mr. J? Her heart beat rapidly and she stepped into the alleyway to get a closer look.

"Hello?"

"Harleen Quinzel….we meet again." Jonathan Crane turned around and faced her in the shadows, his eyes glowing behind the ghoulish mask. Almost instantly, her body tensed and she prepared for a scuffle, half-hungry for it. If Crane didn't watch himself, perhaps he'd be her first real hurt-victim soon.

"What do you want?"

He just stared at him, nonplussed by her austerity. "No need to look so intimidating. I came only to talk."

"What are you doing here without your cronies? Did you come to turn yourself in?"

He laughed. "No. I come bearing a message to you."

"Well? Spit it out then!"

"My my," he said, circling around her. "You seem quite different from when we last met. You're much less timid-looking, less nervous. The clown must have done a real number on you."

"State your business, Crane," she snarled. "What's your message? Is it from Mr. J?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. I met up with him shortly and we made a sort of temporary truce. I do believe that he's getting secretly paranoid about being captured. That's a common trait of someone in fear. He knows that his time as a free-running rogue is almost up. The Batman will catch him soon. Anyway, we made this truce: he doesn't try to aggressively drive me out over turf and I don't reveal his location. He also instructed me to give you this message: he will see you very soon. Sooner than you think. He wanted me to tell you that."

"…Is that all?"

Crane nodded. "Yes. That's all." He eyed her warily, watching her expression. "There's no mistaking it, you're in love with him. How delightfully pathetic. It's a damned shame you weren't my doctor. We could have so much more fun together…"

"I wish he would come," she said, ignoring him. "I can't take this separation. I'm beginning to feel so trapped…like I'm just walking around in circles or something. Part of me wants to be truly free, while some part of me is still telling me that it's wrong. Argh! This is so frustrating!"

"He's twisted you up big time," Crane said in mild amusement. "He's turned you into his little love-sick puppy. How cute. How droll. But you know that it's all temporary, Harley. He just wants you long enough to see what you'll become."

"That's not true!" she shouted, lunging at him and missing. "He CARES about me! He's the only one who ever truly understood me. You have no right to say such things about him!"

"Calm down. It's all a matter of opinion. But from where I'm standing, you've lost a few screws. My dear, have you forgotten who he is? He's one of the most infamous criminals in recent history. He gives _me_ the creeps! It is foolish to constantly dwell on him and pine for something he can never give you. Continuing to yearn for this man could result in dire consequences."

"What do you know? You're just a nutcase obsessed with scaring people. You know _nothing_ about Mr. J."

"I know enough. What a shame, Harley-dear, that of all the unlucky women out there, he chose you to be his plaything. I wish things could have turned out differently. But perhaps this obsession you have for him is merely a phase. Maybe one day, you'll grow out of it and realize what a folly you're getting yourself into."

"There is no folly," she hissed. "You're wrong. I know what I'm getting myself into—and I'm perfectly fine with that. I don't care if it means a life of danger and pursuit from the police. Stuff like that does not bother me anymore."

"Heh. Methinks differently. Do you even know what you're saying? _Nosce te ipsum_, Harley—know thyself. You aren't seriously saying that the clown is really all that worth it? You're better than that."

She glared at him. "And just why do you care so much?"

He shrugged. "I like you, I guess. There's something rather intriguing about you. But maybe even if you were with me, there wouldn't be a chance for us. There's a wall that separates your kind from my kind. And that means that it separates you from your dearest 'Mr. J' as well. You don't have a chance, really. Sorry to have to tell you, but it's true. You live in one world, the Joker lives in another. That's the way things must be."

Harley gritted her teeth and stared him down, almost towering over him. "I think you should go now. Go before I call the police."

He nodded. "Fine. As you wish. I only came to deliver Joker's message. I intend you no harm, trust me on that." Then he turned and started to slink off into the shadows, but not before tipping his head back to utter one final remark. "I still stand by what I say, Harley. As long as you exist as you do now, you will forever be bound to a life away from ours. There will always be a wall between us. Think about that." And then he was gone.

She stood staring into the darkness of the alleyway, biting her lip and digesting what he had said.

…_He's…he's right. I hate to admit it, but he's right. As much as I try to convince myself, Mr. J and I are still separated. I'm still trapped here in this lousy life while he's out there running free! I'm still trapped and I…_

She turned and fled for home, trying to run from the bitter feelings of passionate despair. Crane was totally right. She was still alone, away from the one she loved. She was still imprisoned in her own little world, running in circles and getting nowhere.

When she got in the doorway, she clutched her aching head and went into the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror for a long time.

_This is me. This is the face of someone not of Mr. J's world. This is someone who is still not free…_

She had a promising future—a long-lasting career as a shrink, a chance to become a model citizen in Gotham. In short, a life that many would have envied.

_But I don't WANT this life!_

She shrieked and tugged at her hair, gnashing her teeth and clawing at the air. She wanted her Mr. J so badly. She wanted to die for him, bleed for him, fight for him to the very end…but as long as she was here, she'd never get those chances.

"Damnit! Damn it all!"

_What do I do, Puddin'? What do I have to do to become part of the life you live? Maim? Kill? Do you want me to do that? I'll do it if you want me to. Just please don't leave me here alone…_

Endless night. The stars are cold and dim in the black sky. Woe and desperation come as swiftly as a bullet, dragging her down. And from within her, one side of her begging for peace and composure, the other begging for blood and laughter. She was torn in the middle, stuck in this hell-hole paradox, trying to break through the chains that bound her. Her mind zoomed in all sorts of directions, making her hear voices: Mr. J's, Crane's, Arkham's, and even her own. She could not bear the noises and she dove underneath the bed sheets until they went away.

"I'm okay. I'm okay…"

She went back to sewing, weaving the delicate red fabric into something that resembled a top. It didn't look too bad; it just needed a few little touches…perhaps some nice black pants to go with it. And a black coat too. That would be good.

_Yes, that's right. Don't think about what Crane said. Think about the clothing. Such a pretty red color…so pretty…go away, bad thoughts. _

But even though she was trying to convince herself to deny what she dreaded, she knew that it was not going to leave her that night.

_Don't go there…lalalalalala…nothing there…no bad thoughts here, no sir. Nadda. Zilch._

The needle was so bright and sharp and shiny. Such a pretty glint it gave off. Such a perfect point at the end.

Without knowing what she was doing, she removed her shirt and went back into the bathroom. Angling her head over her shoulder, she found the bare skin of the upper-left section of her back and pressed the needle against it, piercing into the peach-pink flesh. It stung agonizingly, but she couldn't stop herself. With the needle clutched firmly in her right hand, she carefully dragged it across the skin, watching it in the mirror as blood welled out from the line. A few more minutes of excruciating pain, and it was finished, forever scarred onto the upper-left of her back near her left shoulder-blade:

_**J + H**_

It was beautiful. True, it was still bleeding very rapidly, but she knew that it would stay there forever.

_Mr. J, you should have been here to see this. You should have been the one to do it. Well, look now. Isn't it a sign? I've got scars now just like you. Doesn't that mean that I can finally be free like you are? Is that what you want?_

Blood trickled in a fine stream down her back and she had to bandage herself up to keep herself from making a mess all over the bathroom tiles. She knew that this still was not enough, but the pain was something to take her mind off of the situation. It was her way of dealing with the heartache and she did not regret doing it at all. Her back stinging, she sat on the side of the bed and massaged her throbbing forehead.

The needle in her hand was red at the point with her blood. She stared at it for a long while. Then, very slowly, she brought it to her mouth and licked it.

It tasted like metal.


	29. Shadow Mirror

Just like she predicted, the wound on her left shoulder-blade turned into a scar and remained permanently on her body, marking her for life. Even though she knew that it was hidden under her doctor's coat during the daytime, she almost felt like everyone could see it.

_Well, let them see it. I don't care. The useless fools would get a kick out of that, wouldn't they? The Hell with them. I don't need them._

She despised them because not only did they judge and criticize her from the very beginning, they also were part of the life she no longer wanted to live. They were fragments of the life of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, forever plaguing her with their stares and their whispers.

Dr. Arkham played just as much a part in it as they did. She wouldn't have been surprised if this turned out to be just one big joke being played on her…a conspiring pact that they had all made together to get her paranoid and humiliated.

But she wouldn't let them get the better of her. They couldn't keep her caged into this existence for too much longer. All things had to come to an end and she was ready to finally break free from it all.

She laughed a lot now, even at things that weren't all that funny. She found that it kept her going, made her tolerate the world around her. Everything had become a joke to her—her job, the Batman, the Gotham police force, and even Gotham City itself. She found it all so inexplicably hilarious. She'd grin eagerly as she watched the news, squealing gleefully whenever she heard of an explosion or criminal attack. Whenever the mentioning of Mr. J came up, she'd run over to the television and sit in dazzled awe as the newsperson would report his amazing feats, his glorious triumphs of evading the police and spreading his message of chaos. Yes, she knew that he was going to get caught eventually, but it always seemed so far away from then.

One evening, she sat in front of the TV, nibbling absentmindedly at a chocolate bar as a live report was broadcasted that Mr. J had managed to kill four members of the GCPD and had escaped within minutes.

"Fools!" she shrieked at the screen, giggling loudly. "You should all know better than to mess with him and the boys! You're only bringing about your own deaths."

She darted over and picked up Sammy from the bed, sitting in front of the screen and cuddling him in her arms.

"Aren't they a hoot, Sammy?" she cooed down to the stuffed rabbit. "They're so predictable. How pitiful."

But Sammy only stared, his black-button eyes blank and empty.

She tossed him over to the side and paced giddily around the room, a slight habit that she had formed over the past few days. Restlessly, she went into the bathroom and washed her face, trying to keep herself alert for ant more news on Mr. J that could be given.

Then something strange happened.

It began when she looked at herself in the mirror. At first, she saw nothing more than her reflection—the same boring brown hair that so desperately needed to be dyed blonde, the same wide, staring eyes, the same naïve, childish expression. But then things turned bizarre.

Her reflection blinked. And suddenly, the face _changed_. It changed into someone else, yet it was still the same. The baby-blue eyes turned calmer and less savage, the face turned melancholy and forlorn. The expression lost its wild, passionate look and turned gentle and patient.

"_Harley,"_ it said to her in a voice that was controlled and quiet, almost like a whisper. This reflection was no longer her own. It all came clear to her right there and then.

It was Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

"You aren't real," she hissed at it, sneering. "You're a hallucination."

"_No. I'm you. I've always been you. We have to talk. We must find control. We must find reason…"_

"I'm not going to reason with a **hallucination**. You don't exist."

"_But I do. And that's why I'm talking to you. This has to end. You've got to stop this madness. This isn't you. This whole thing is not who you are!"_

"It IS!" Harley screamed at the reflection, gritting her teeth. "YOU'RE not who I really am. You're just…just…a shadow! A lie! You've been bottling up the real me inside all this time! Well, now I'm finally free and you can't control me anymore!"

"_No. I wasn't controlling you. Don't you understand? We are the same person. I am you and you are me. You're being misled, falling farther and farther down the pit. Something very bad will happen if we don't stop this craziness. Can't you see? You aren't what he says that you are. This is all his doing. But we can stop this…let's go back to how things used to be."_

"Go back? GO BACK? To WHAT? To my life? HA! I was never truly alive. Not really. You were the mask I wore to hide myself from the world. You were nothing but a façade, a lie."

"_No,"_ Harleen said, shaking her head. _"Look at yourself. Take a good long look. Look what you're turning into. Is this what you truly want? You don't have to be like this. We are one in the same…we always will be."_

"NO! I'M NOT LIKE YOU! I WILL NEVER BE LIKE YOU AGAIN!"

Harley was reeling, twisting, falling onto her rump on the tile-floor and scooting away from the mirror, trembling like a panicked animal as Harleen stood before her, gazing down at her like a sad-faced martyr. The very sight of her made Harley sick to her stomach.

"_Harley…"_

"No! Stay away! Stay away! You're not real! You're false! Not real!" And then a sea of bitter images flooded through her head, making her gasp and tremble.

Her mother. The neighbor boys. Her unknown father.

Dr. Arkham. Her fellow doctors. Len.

Mr. J kidnapping her. Mr. J gagging her and subjecting her to torment while he filmed her cries of panic and misery. Mr. J leaving her in the darkness. Mr. J saving her life from thugs only to physically abuse her before carrying her home. Mr. J poking at her, prodding into her mind, worming his way into her little by little. Mr. J screaming at her, trying to force her to kill Len, then killing Len right in front of her and physically abusing her after that. Mr. J staring down at her in the darkness, smirking as she grew more and more malleable, moldable.

Harley screamed and shook her head, trying to escape from these horrid images. They were _nothing_! They _had_ to be nothing. And all the while, she could hear Harleen calling out to her from the abyss, pleading with her, trying to get her to surrender to the life that she had once lived, to get her to go back to that happy, ignorant dream-world that had existed before she had known the Joker. And for a moment, just a moment, Harley was willing to go through with it.

But then…

Laughter. Acceptance. Family.

Cutter. Poke. Rocco and Henshaw.

Cutter doing whatever he could to make her happy, making sure that she was looked after and kept safe. Poke with his loony quips and sayings, rambling about fire or blood or jokes that were funny simply because they weren't. The cousins with their solid reliability and earnest fondness for each other, keeping quiet most of the time, but occasionally putting in their two-cents every now and then.

And Mr. J…

Mr. J patting her head as the thunderstorm raged on outside. Mr. J on the roof, doing all that he could just to get her to smile, just to get her to be happy after so long. Mr. J wandering with her around the desolate streets of his turf, threatening Crane for even coming near her. Mr. J telling her the truth about the world, telling her that he understood her…that he could see the real her that was imprisoned inside. Mr. J kissing her forehead, calling her 'his pet', breathing softly beside her at night.

Fireworks...

An endless stream of colors…colors of life and a love newly-discovered. A love strong enough to see past the scars and the knives and the war-paint. A love that stood firm and durable against the walls that confined it, beating furiously against the howling wind that dared to deny it of its raw emotion.

Harleen was staring back at her from the mirror with widened eyes, pleading and distressed, mewling at her in desperation.

"_Harley…This isn't you…"_

"YOU aren't me! I'm not going to listen to you! Go away!"

"_Harley—"_

"NO! Go away! !"

Harley lashed out at the reflection, thrashing and shrieking, shattering the face of Dr. Harleen Quinzel as she broke the glass. Her fist stung from the glass-shards, but she barely noticed. The face was gone and there was only herself staring back at her through the cracked glass.

She looked down at her hand, her eyes flickering when she finally realized that it was bleeding from the impact of punching the mirror. Getting straight into action, she cleaned the wound and wrapped a wet towel around it to make the swelling go down.

She wouldn't look at herself in the mirror for a few days after that hallucination. She took time off of work to tend to her wounded hand until it got better again. She spent the next few days going back to falling into her usual fawning trance in front of the television, searching for broadcasts about her Puddin'. In a way, it was as if nothing had changed and that everything was the way it always had been.

But there was no denying it, something inside of her had definitely changed that evening. Pictures of the Harleen that had once existed found themselves being placed at the bottom of the drawer, hidden from existence. The old personal journal that Dr. Quinzel had once written notes in was ripped to shreds and discarded in the trashcan.

So her life dragged on a bit longer, shifting more and more within each passing day. But despite the endless ranting and pounding that constantly swirled around in her brain, a few fragments of rationality kept her from snapping-revealing herself to her boss and peers. She could feel herself growing desperate for excitement, for relief from the agony that clung to her from inside, but she kept herself as controlled as she could. If she snapped, it would mean the end of her job and no chance of ever seeing Mr. J again. And for a while, she felt something like contentment at the knowledge that things could keep still for now.

But, of course, nothing keeps still for too long.

The dam was about to break…


	30. Fury

"You seem a bit cheerier than usual, Harleen. You've been humming all day."

_Ugh. Arkham, you have got to stop calling me that. Harleen—what a dull name…_

"Oh, you know me, sir," she only said, giving him a phony smile. "I'm always up and down. My emotions are a tad fickle, I guess."

"Well, I'm glad to see you looking better. To be honest, I was getting a bit worried about you. You seemed distant, almost sick."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I feel fine, sir."

_I feel better and more alive than I have in my entire life. What about you, __**sir**__? Too bad you're too blinded by your own abysmal life to understand the truth about things. A pity._

Dr. Arkham sorted out some papers, stacking them neatly. "Just try to take care of yourself, Harleen. Don't be getting sick on me."

"Anyway, sir, did you need any more paperwork? I have the files on some of the newest patients and—"

"No, that's all. You can go home now if you want."

So home she went.

XxX

Sewing, sewing, sewing!

She couldn't get enough of it. The outfit was almost ready. She stitched it together so perfectly—a sleek red coat with black diamond symbols on the sides. A dark crimson shirt and jet black pants with a thick belt. She had no clue just what she intended to do with the finished product, but she felt accomplished with herself that it was almost finished.

A few weeks went by, making her Mr. J's image grow dimmer and dimmer. True, her love for him was still passionate and all-enduring, but now there was something sad about it…as if her time with him had been nothing but a beautiful dream, far-away from her reach.

Still, time marched forward, dragging her along with it. She despised the doctors and the law enforcement and the Batman as she kept more and more to herself in her apartment, watching the world outside with contempt. She often went outside in the rain, feeling the cool drops of moisture on her face. It was like a baptismal, a feeling of change and a new world.

How she longed to go out and discover that new world! She'd go and never look back. She would leave everything behind…her mother…her peers…everything. Change was never the curse people often thought it to be—it was a gift, a blessing and a promise for a new tomorrow. Mr. J had brought her that change, that new path to gleefully follow, that new light to see. Change had proven to be a good thing to her, an enlightening experience that awakened her to seeing life for what it truly was.

One Sunday afternoon, she paced around her apartment, lounging on the bed and thinking of Mr. J, wishing he was there.

She missed him so much. She was practically dying for him. If she ever saw him again, she'd give him a piece of her mind for going and leaving her behind. But she had faith that she'd see him again, of course. After all, she was his girl, his dearest pet! _Surely_ he wouldn't let her endure this torment much longer.

Perhaps the Batman was to be blamed for all of this. Oh yes…certainly. And why not? It was the damned Bat's nature to go and bully those who were better and more powerful than him. Yes, Batman must have been responsible for Mr. J's long absence.

_Batman!_

Her skin crawled just thinking of him and she had trained herself to sneer at the mere mentioning of him. She had never, in all her life, felt such dislike for a person simply because they existed. Why did she even hate the man so much for anyway? No, questions like that were not to be answered. The answer was clear enough—he was in Mr. J's way. The Batman was the force that held the most threat and therefore, he was her enemy, plain and simple.

Her enemy…

Not like she could really stop him. What could she do? She had no real training in physical violence nor had she ever really had any desire to…mostly. Well, there were her gymnastics-skills…

_Heh. That's a stupid idea, Harley. Gymnastics isn't a substitute for fighting. How pathetic are you? You're not a fighter. You never were. Don't kid yourself._

And she felt her heart break just a little. She wished she were more like her Mr. J—more strong and powerful and fearsome. But, in the end, she was nothing more than a simpering shrink, well on the outside at least.

_But maybe…maybe I can change everything. Each day, I feel as if something new is going to happen…who knows? Maybe something big is just around the corner._

And in truth, something _was_.

XxX

She yawned as she sat at her work-desk, stretching and doodling endless scribbles on her note-pad. She liked making loops, twirling them around and around on the paper. Then she'd browse through some of the files on Mr. J and read about him, sighing ever-so-slightly under her breath.

A knock on the door.

"Come in."

It was Dr. Arkham, giving her a warm smile that she forced herself to return. "Hello, Harleen. I had nothing better to do, so I wanted to see how you are doing."

"I'm doing fine, sir. Just looking up some files on the patients I've been working on."

_MUST you keep popping in on me, Arkham? Does your very existence call for it?_

"That's good. Good to see that at least you're working. Everyone seems to have vanished for some strange reason."

_Probably because they can't stand this place any more than I can._

"They'll turn up eventually," she said, congratulating herself on how convincingly-endearing she sounded. She had gotten awfully good at this. "Where do you think they went to?"

"I'm not sure. I saw them all here about an hour and a half ago…"

"Maybe they're just taking one big break together."

_Of course they didn't include me in it, not that I'd want them to. _

"I hope that they aren't. You shouldn't have to be the only one stuck doing paperwork."

_Oh, Mr. Arkham…why do you always act so nice to me? Is it a bribe? Is it because you feel that you need to have someone on your side?_

"I don't mind, sir. I like doing this kind of stuff. You shouldn't worry about me."

Mr. Arkham looked at her. "I know I've been a bit harsh on you recently, and I'm sorry for that. Truth is, I was worried that the damned clown was going to steal you away again. I was just scared. You're probably the nicest doctor here. All the others are distant and cold. It would be a shame to lose you again." His eyebrows creased. He looked so sullen, so desperate for her to understand.

For a split second, she wished that she could take back all the nasty things she had thought about him. After all, she had once considered him a friend. Once, she had looked up to him and had respected him greatly. In the end, he was just a lonely older man, trapped in this asylum just as much as the inmates were. It was so sad…

_Arkham, you lost my respect when you talked that way you did about Mr. J. You, like all the others, are an obstacle in my way. Oh, sir, you poor, poor thing. You poor fool. Maybe your intentions were good, but in the end you were wrong…_

Yet she still wanted to take it all back and start from the beginning, wanted to find what had made the older man so respectable in her eyes. Perhaps things _could_ go back to the way they were used to…

Suddenly, a guard dashed in, his eyes grim and urgent.

"Mr. Arkham! Thank god, I found you. We need you right now!"

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Come see. It's the Joker. We've got him and-"

Harley was already charging out the door before he had time to finish his sentence.

"Harleen! Slow down! Wait…" Mr. Arkham briskly followed her, but she already had dashed ahead towards the main asylum entrance where all the missing doctors were gathered.

_Mr. J!_

Finally, she'd see him again. The wait had been long and tedious, but they were finally to be reunited. She couldn't believe it, she was so happy. As much as she had wished that he hadn't finally been caught, she would be glad to have him back with her here at the asylum.

_We'll have some time to spend together, Puddin'! If I try my hardest, I'll be able to find some…ah, 'quality-time' sessions with you. I'm shaking! You and me together again and—_

She turned the corner and stopped dead in her tracks, her heart stopping and her eyes widening.

Mr. J was horribly wounded, bleeding from the nose and mouth. One of his legs was bent in a strange, broken angle and his both his eyes were swollen shut. Around his wrists were tight black binds that kept him from reaching out. The guards were dragging him forward, desperately calling for the Arkham medical staff. Mr. J was laughing despite the immense pain in his body, giggling and wheezing as they dragged him along. He looked horrible.

Her heart had turned to ice and she tried to speak, but nothing came out. Mr. Arkham was at her side and standing there in shock, trying to put everything together.

"Wh-what happened? Who did this to him?"

"Look at his wrists." Attached to the black binds was a metallic sort of material shaped like some sort of symbol…almost like…

Harley's nails dug into her fists to the point of bleeding. She knew who had done this.

_He…hurt Mr. J…he…HURT him badly. _

Mr. J opened one swollen eye and peered up at her, his eerie grin widening. As much as she wanted to, she could not go to him. It would give her away. She could only helplessly stare down at him as he licked his bruised, cut lips.

_Mr. J…oh, god, please be alright…why would the Batman do something as ugly and vile as this? Oh god…_

"Come on, clown," one of the guards was gently coaxing. "We need to get you to the medical wing."

They dragged him harder as he roared with laughter, making Harley's bones turn cold in her body. Soon, he was out of sight.

"I should have figured the Batman would have something like this," Mr. Arkham said. "Now it's all back to square-one. Damned clown…the Batman should have just put him out of his misery."

She whirled her head to face him, her eyes glowing with fury. How DARE he! She knew for certain now that things could never go back to the way they used to be between him. She had been a fool for ever even considering it.

Rage flooded within her, covering the world with a hazy red mist. Her head spun and everyone around her went from distorted to normal. Her eyes were welled-up with tears but they did not fall. Her breathing turned rapid and erratic, like a crazed animal's. Her body shook and her hands lusted to hurt something, to rip and tear and slice.

"Harleen?" Mr. Arkham was looking at her with concern. "Are you alright? Harleen?"

She turned away, twisting in pain, in anger and sorrow. She couldn't look at him. Her blood was burning with wrath and she felt that her heart would burst from the agony.

"I h-h-have t-to go!" She ran before he could stop her, tearing down the hallways and out the main doors into the night.

_Mr. J! MR. J!_

She saw him next to her on the roof, whispering tenderly in her ear. She saw him at her side in bed when they had made love, caressing her and cooing affectionately. She saw him when they had re-encountered each other that day in the park—him keeping him close as the shadowy figure of the Batman approached.

Batman!

She'd make him pay for this. She'd make him suffer for hurting her Puddin' so much. This was it. She couldn't take it anymore.

She ran and ran, panting and snarling. Within her, she could feel the long-suppressed version of herself finally breaking free, screaming to the surface at long last. Once again, she was right near the edge, staring into the abyss. She saw the joke of the world, laughing all around her in the darkness, urging her to finally let go.

_Mr. J! I won't ever let this happen to you again! I WON'T! NOT EVER AGAIN!_

And just like that, her mind finally snapped.

XxX

Poke groaned and leaned up against the wall of the warehouse, staring glumly into space. "We shouldn't have let the boss take on the Bat on his own. Now he's caught and it's going to be a while before he manages to get out again."

"At least we're okay," Henshaw said, dressing one of Rocco's wounds. "The boss got hurt pretty badly. You think he's alright?"

"He got clobbered! It was horrible. The Bat swooped in just like that…"

Cutter was silent, staring out into the ceiling-window at the silver moon, frowning slightly.

"What do we do now, Cutter? How do we manage without him?"

Cutter turned towards his three companions. "We do what we can. We keep our ears open for any signs he may give us. When he gives the word, we go in and bust him out."

"But when will that be?"

"Who knows?"

Rocco scratched his side and pouted. "I wish that Harley was here. I could use a pretty face after all this trouble we've been through. A shame the boss had to let her go."

"Yes," said Cutter softly. "A real shame."

Poke went over and wrapped an arm around Cutter, grinning slightly. "Come on, you somber bastards. Let's keep our chins up. The boss will be okay. Let's have a bonfire or something."

Henshaw shook his head. "I'm not up to it. Rocco is still bleeding slightly and I'm not in the mood to burn stuff."

Poke sighed and hopped up on one of the storage boxes, biting the tip of his knife. "How boring. This period without the boss will be really boring, I'll bet. You blokes are absolutely no fun."

"Stop acting so la-de-da about it! The boss was hurt real bad and we got our asses handed to us! This isn't a game! Stop acting like such a fucking dumbass!"

Poke hopped down and pointed his knife at Henshaw's face, grinning eerily. "Want to call me that again and end up like dear old Len? I'll burn your body afterwards, too."

"Oh yeah?" asked Rocco, sneering and towering over Poke. "Just try."

"Don't make me laugh, Roc. You and Henshaw may be strong, but you're certainly not very fast. You're the ones who slowed us down in the first place. Maybe the boss would have been okay if you two hadn't been dilly-dallying."

"You fucking fire-bug asshole!" They both charged at Poke and swung at him. He dodged and swung also, hitting and getting hit in the process.

Cutter ran towards them and pulled the three of them off of each other, shouting over their snarls. "Stop it! That's enough. Stop acting like a bunch of bickering grade-schoolers! You're members of the boss's crew, not members of a third-grade class."

Poke panted and wiped the stream of blood from his mouth. "Sorry, Cutter, ole buddy. Methinks we're all going a bit nuttier than usual without the boss here."

"We've got to keep our cool, Poke. The boss is not going to want to return to see that his crew is at each other's throats. All of you buck up."

Rocco and Henshaw lowered their heads and slumped their shoulders, staring at the floor in shame. "Sorry…"

"We've got to keep it together, boys. We've all got to keep a cool head. Fighting isn't going to solve our problems. We need to focus on finding a way to get the boss back and-"

The door swung open and the four of them jumped back in panic, expecting to see the Batman or the GCPD. But it was only a single person, stepping forward ever-so-slowly towards them in the shadows.

"Who are you?" Cutter asked, his knees shaking. "What do you want?"

The figure's eyes glowed in the darkness like a demon's, basking Cutter in their fierce blue light.

Poke stepped forward a little bit, trying to be brave. "Don't try anything with us. We'll kill you where you stand." He pointed his knife at the shadowy figure, waving it threateningly.

"_Really _now, Poke, that's not a nice thing to say to a lady, hee hee hee…"

"Who are you? Why have you come here?" All of their weapons were now pointed at the person.

The figure began to laugh, high-pitched and giddily, making them all want to flee as fast as they could. "I'm surprised, boys. There's no need to be so rude. But if you all insist on fighting…"

In a flash, the figure darted forward and they charged at it all at the same time. Cutter remembered being gently tossed to the side as the figure swiftly dodged every attack with amazing speed and physical strength. Before they realized it, all four men were on the ground, staring dumbfounded at the person that had become hidden in the shadows once again.

"Done trying to kill me? You boys break my heart. _Surely_ you must know me."

Cutter blinked in shock, gasping as his mouth turned dry.

"Har—"

"Oh yes," the figure replied before he could finish. "And we've got lots of work to do tonight, boys. Lots of work indeed…ha hee ha ha ha…"

They looked at each other, not sure what to say.

"Our poor Mr. J is trapped at that dreadful old asylum all by his lonesome…but I'm going to pay him a little visit. And I want you fellows to be here waiting by the time I get back. Surely you can do that."

With a cackle, the figure began to turn and leave, exiting out the door.

"Wait!" Cutter called out, dragging himself forward.

The figure tipped her head to the side and regarded him for a minute with her unnatural glowing eyes. Even in the darkness, Cutter could see a wide dark-lipped smile stretching on her face.

"Hang tight, Cutter. I'll be back."

Then she walked out and they sat there on the floor, not entirely sure what they had just seen.

Outside, the night was filled with endless giggles as the figure made her way towards Arkham Asylum.


	31. Caged No More

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham was having a bad night.

The Joker had been finally brought back to captivity and the press kept barging in to ask questions. The damned clown had been in the medical wing most of the day and had now finally been put back into a cell where his loud laughter could not be heard. Arkham detested the clown, cursing himself for ever letting them bully him into accepting the clown in the first place.

But that wasn't why he was having a bad night.

Dr. Harleen Quinzel had not shown up for work that day. She wasn't answering her home phone and he was worried that something bad had happened to her. She had looked so distraught yesterday night, frantic with worry over her ex-patient and captor. It was very troubling. He hoped she hadn't had some sort of emotional attack and was now in the hospital.

Arkham Asylum was eerily quiet this night. One would think that with the Joker back in captivity, there would be all kinds of chatter and commotion. But no, tonight was actually rather calm and serene for once. Most of the doctors had gone home at this time and the guards had recently just changed shifts.

He couldn't help but feel a tad bit lonely as he walked down the empty halls. Occasionally, he would chat with one of the night-guards or try to get some paperwork done to keep himself amused. He had actually been getting ready to finally leave when all the madness began.

It all started with an explosion…

XxX

The woman darted from the rubble and readied herself for the guards that would come, carefully positioning her body to strike.

"Hey! Intruder!" Bullets whizzed past her head as she dove forward, kicking three night-guards in the face. "Don't let her go!"

But she did a powerful front flip and knocked them out, running through the smoke into the main wing of the building. Her heart thudded loudly and her tongue hung out of her mouth like a dog's.

_God, it feels so good to be free!_

She giggled and quickened her speed, ducking back behind a corner to avoid the incoming guards that were now searching for her.

_One…two…three…four…five…six._ _Six guards. Might be a bit of a pain to take out, but that's the way it goes._

With a wild shriek, she charged at them and clawed at their bellies, pushing them roughly as she dodged their firings. A bullet grazed her right shoulder but she didn't even feel it as she jumped and brought her fist to meet their flesh, sending them back reeling.

_Should I kill them? I got a knife here. I could slice their throats open before they had time to even blink…_

She decided not to and simply knocked them unconscious as she had done with the first three guards, standing over their bodies with a wide grin.

_Back to the mission. Here I come, Mr. J!_

Slinking in the shadows, she hid in the gloom and made her way towards the patient-cells. All she had to do was avoid more guards and then success! And if any doctor were to show up and try to stand in her way, then she'd make them wish they were never born.

Reaching into her bag, she took out another smoke-bomb and readied it. If there _were_ any doctors nearby, she'd have to use the bomb to escape from their vision as much as possible. If she managed to make it through the office-section, then she'd get to where she wanted to be.

_Here it goes…_

"Who are you?" Dr. Arkham's voice behind her, quivering and frightened. "Why are you doing this?"

"…"

Arkham stood his ground and glared at the woman's back. "Turn around and face me. Who are you?"

"Stay out of my way. You have no business interfering with me."

"What do you want? What are you trying to do?"

"Come any closer, Jerry, and I'll rip you to shreds. And I'm sure you would not like that…would you…SIR?"

Arkham's eyes widened. "No. No…it can't be…it's not true…"

The woman turned and faced him, hiding in the shadows. Two glowing blue eyes glared at him, staring hard and cold. A menacing giggle.

"No! No! Harleen! No!"

"Oh yes, Jerry-boy," the woman said gleefully from the shadows. "It's your favorite little doctor! I've come to free him from his cell and you can't stop me."

"Harleen…why? How can you do this?"

"It's easy, sir," Harley purred. "I'm no longer your pathetic little shrink-friend. I've found a new outlook on life. I've seen the funny side at last."

"No! This isn't you! Harleen, this is not who you are! Harleen! Stop this! Harleen!"

"Harleen is dead, sir," she said in a low whisper. "My name is Harley Quinn."

She finally stepped out of the shadows and he gasped.

Her brown hair was now a light shade of blonde, tied back into two girlish pigtails. One was tied with a red ribbon and the other was tied with a black ribbon and they bobbed slightly. Her face was covered in clown-white war-paint with dark markings around the eyes similar to the Joker's. She had black lipstick on that had been stretched slightly beyond the corners of her mouth that gave her an endlessly-smiling appearance. She wore a crimson-red coat with diamond symbols on each shoulder and a dark-red shirt underneath. A sturdy belt was around her waist that carried several knives and she wore long, jet-black pants. There were two bells attached to the ribbon around each pigtail that jingled whenever her head moved.

But what shocked him the most was her eyes. While they had once been so gentle and calm, they had now become wild and ferocious, filled with madness and frantic emotion. The pupils looked smaller, more animalistic and her eyes appeared rounder and more childish. Despite the passion that filled her eyes, he was terrified of them.

She no longer looked like the kind, gentle woman he had once known. She looked like a harlequin, a female-Joker and a blue-eyed demon.

"What has that monster done to you?"

"He set me free, Jerry," she said as she screamed with laughter. "I'm no longer trapped in this boring, meaningless life. I'm free at last to do whatever I want! No one can stop me."

"But why have you come to this, Harleen?"

"I told you, Harleen is dead. There was never any room on this world for Harleen. She was timid and pitiful and she was everyone's fool. Mr. J awakened me to the truth about this world. He helped me get the joke. Because of him, I'll never have to submit to society ever again."

"But this isn't right! This isn't supposed to happen!"

She growled and stepped forward a bit, piercing him with her eyes. "Then where were you when I was held hostage, hm? Where were you then? You're just like all the others—nothing but a worm trying to bait me, to get me to look like an idiot."

"No. Harleen, it was never like that."

"You wanted to lock up my Mr. J for good!" She sliced a knife into the wall, peeling back the layers. "Like everyone else, you're blind to what he really is. But only I can see it. He's the best thing to ever happen to me. I shall free him and then I shall fight for him until the day I die."

"No…you mean you…"

She howled in laughter, shaking and convulsing with it. "That's right, Jerry. I _love_ him. More than anything else in the whole world. That kidnapping wasn't a natural one…it was _fated_ to happen. It was my destiny."

"You can't be serious! You can't possibly—"

"Oh, but I am serious. I love him with every fiber of my being. To break him out shall be the start of my demonstrations of love to him. And I think I'll start by ending your life."

In a flash, she was already on him, wrapping her arms around his throat. He gagged and coughed, trying to squirm away, feeling utterly helpless as he stared into those savage blue eyes.

Harley was grinning sickly, marveling in the feelings she got while strangling him. There was nothing like it. A little bit more time and he'd be dead.

"Har-Harl-Harleen….p-please…"

She looked down at him and frowned, her hands trembling slightly. Much as she loved the feelings, Dr. Arkham had been the first friend she had, even if she thought it to be false by now. The older gentleman had been a sort of respectable companion for her, a sort of refuge from the icy glares if the other doctors.

The bittersweet memories returning, her grip loosened and she hesitated. He was wrong about everything that he had said. He was blind to the joke and still lived in utter ignorance like everyone else. But despite this, some part of her believed that deep down, he really had cared about her.

The belief was strong enough for her to release him from her grasp, shoving him back onto the floor and watching as he coughed erratically.

"I'll let you live this once." Her eyes flickered like twin blue orbs, glowing with an unnatural light.

"Harleen…" he reached out to her, trying to stop the gray haze that was clouding his vision.

What was left of Dr. Harleen Quinzel…what was left of the compassionate, good-natured doctor that had once been, turned away and disappeared into the shadows, leaving Arkham behind to pass out on the floor.

_This is it. There's no going back now. _

She was Harley Quinn, now and forever. No longer did she have to hide her emotions, letting herself be tormented on the inside. No longer did she have to be bound by rules and regulations. She was, at long last, finally free.

And she would have her Joker; come what may and Hell to pay.

Entering the patient's wing of the asylum, she threw her second smoke-bomb, plunging into the hazy darkness towards Mr. J's cell. A handful of night-guards ran past her coughing, not even noticing her presence within the smoke. With a gleeful smile, she slunk past them and dove forward, panting and almost running on all fours out of exhilaration.

Mr. J was lying down on his cot, stuck in a feverish half-doze from his injuries, his face swollen and puffy. She ached to see him like that, like some poor sick little beaten puppy. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, fully of excitement and desire. This was it. This is what she had been waiting for.

Mr. J sat up slightly with a weak groan and blinked at her with his good eye, astounded and confused. He cocked his head and licked his lips, making her beam happily at the sight of him.

"Hi, Puddin'. Wanna go for a ride? I'll drive."

Slowly, very slowly, Mr. J began to smile.


	32. Our Mad Love

**(DISCLAIMER-Lyrics used for this chapter to not belong to me. I don't own them.)**

The news spread all around Gotham like a wildfire.

The Joker as once again free from Arkham Asylum, sprung out by his own doctor and former hostage, Dr. Harleen Quinzel.

The city had gone into a sort of panic, locking doors early and avoiding the streets. Even though the GCDP was already on the move, they failed to find where the clown and his new accomplice had fled to. Searches took place all around the city, yet there was never a trace to be seen of them. Harley had managed to escape with the Joker at just the right moment.

That night, the moon seemed to glow a little more eerie than usual and the Gothamites were glued to their television screens, waiting for results…for relief.

XxX

In the cold breeze, the Batman hid in the shadows of a vacant alleyway, staring silently into the night.

Part of him cursed himself for being so blind, for not noticing how affectionately Quinzel had gazed at the clown during that confrontation at the park. He had failed to save Harleen, failed the same way he had failed to save Harvey and Rachel.

Harleen Quinzel had gone completely and utterly insane, wounding several Arkham guards during her escapade and she had taken the Joker from the asylum out of sheer adoring love for him. It was shocking—unfathomable. How could she love someone so deviously twisted and murderous? What had he done to her during the two weeks of her captivity?

The Batman didn't know where to turn. He was genuinely, sincerely stumped. He knew that he had not seen the last of the Joker and Quinzel. They would turn up again soon. It would be even harder to bring Joker to justice if Quinzel turned out to be really dangerous. But it would take time to see.

_Gotham,_ he thought to himself bitterly. _How many more lives will you change for the worse? How many more good people are you going to drive mad?_

Only the wind answered.

XxX

Dr. Jeremiah Arkham sat in his office, staring blankly out into space. The police had come and gone and there were some that were still lingering around, itching for answers. But he had no answers for them. His heart was a stone in his chest.

_Harleen…why?_

He buried his face in his hands.

XxX

Harleen Quinzel, or Harley Quinn as she came to be known by, had taken the battered-up Joker back to the warehouse-haven, fleeing with the henchmen from there shortly after in order to evade the GCPD.

Her Mr. J was still very weak from his injuries and was nourishing a broken arm and a broken leg. But she'd fix him right up once they found a new safe haven to hide in. They would never be torn apart again. She'd make all of Gotham pay for making her Puddin' suffer so badly. She'd show them. Her chains were finally broken and she was free at last.

_Free at last!_

She stood in the vacant lot, letting her red coat blow wildly in the breeze as she stared up at the silver moon. Her blonde hair hung in her face and she grinned wickedly under the streetlight. She would never forget this night.

In the car, Mr. J groaned in pain, having his head propped up by Poke as he and the cousins sat with him in the backseat. Cutter was sitting in the front and was staring up at the black night sky, letting the smoke from his cigarette drift away into the wind.

Striding over towards Mr. J, she nuzzled him, her eyes moist with tears of joy at the knowledge that they were finally together.

"We'll find a new place soon, Puddin'. I won't let you down."

"My pet," Mr. J crooned, coughing and closing his eyes once again. "My little harlequin…"

She leaned over and kissed his scars, running a hand tenderly through his hair.

No, their story wasn't over. Not by a long shot. There were still places to go, things to see, laughs to be had.

Their mad love had only just begun.

XxX

_So we're bound to linger on, we drink the fatal drop_

_Then love until we bleed, then fall apart in parts_

_-_Lyrics by Kleerup

_**So concludes this story.**_

_**I'd really like to thank all the reviewers who supported me and always took the time to give me tips or analyze my work. **_

_**Extra-special thanks to**__** Mrs. Twilight, highland girl 1592, Minakou1, and keepyourselfalive. You guys are the best!**_

_**But it's not over yet! There are still more stories to come. I hope you all will stick around because story 2 of my Nolanverse Joker/Harley saga is on its way.**_

_**Again, thanks a lot to all of my reviewers who got me here :D**_

_**COMING SOON: HOWL-the continued story of the Until We Bleed series. **_

_**See y'all soon!**_

_**-CAT**_


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